The Friend Zone
by Mr G and Me
Summary: Bella finds herself reluctantly stuck in the friend zone. A little silly, a little fluffy, and a little naughty. AH AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alrighty, this story is officially off hiatus. I needed to write something light after Because of You, but have no fear, since both stories are 90% written, neither will be abandoned. It was a little hard to get into the cracked mind of Bella after Because of You Bella, but it fell into place again and I ended up writing 3 chapters in one night. Ye Gods! I need to go on more Facebook hiatuses.  
I'm going to rework every chapter before posting, so I hope it will be every few days.  
MWAH xoxo**

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 **Chapter 1.**

 **Ungodly Wantonness.**

Walking through the front door of my apartment, I threw my purse and keys on the hall table and flopped down on the sofa with an impatient huff.

He was a no-show!

Of course he was, and why not? It's not as if the universe was going to allow me even a shred of dignity by breaking up with him—not from the level of entertainment our pairing had caused.

It had only taken four years, but I, Bella Swan, had finally come to the realization that sacrificing one's dignity by dating a drooling imbecile for the purposes of unrequited mind sex with his best friend was detrimental to everything from office promotions, to becoming a potential participant in future bridal parties.

Office promotions, because when your dimwitted lover is also a mutual friend with your boss on Facebook, your boss starts doubting your level of intelligence, and henceforth, your abilities in the workplace. And bridal parties because at the idea of your uncivilized lover having a few champagnes and removing his shirt to exhibit his pectoral flexing abilities at your best friend's upcoming nuptials, she starts inventing a long lost cousin that she supposedly had a bridesmaid blood oath with back in 1992. After all, if I was just an obscure guest and not a member the bridal party, she wouldn't have any reservations in having me and my semi-naked date removed from the premises.

If truth be told, it was detrimental to my standing as a functioning member of the female species, not to mention the fact that the object of all past mind sex, and best friend of the ribbed condom I called my boyfriend, in all probability was in agreement with my boss.

In hindsight, the fact that I wasn't able to predict any of this did not say a lot about my IQ or self-respect.

So, here I was, another day of officially dating Jacob Black, another day of having him linked to my Facebook relationship status; and another day of the mental defective's "bro code" rendering Edward Cullen completely unobtainable.

"Fuck my life!" I burst; a pathetic attempt at the hissy fit I was contemplating.

It was only successful in catching my roommate, Rose's, attention. She stuck her head around the corner from the kitchen and quirked an all knowing, slightly amused eyebrow at me.

"Did you do it?" she asked taking a loud bite of her apple and strolling into the living room to sit beside me.

She was referring to, of course, my long overdue plan of social redemption by breaking up with Jacob. Jake Black, aka my link at access to Edward Cullen; his best friend, and object of all my current wanton desires.

Forcing myself upright on the sofa, I huffed out my breath in irritation. "I didn't get the chance—the asshole didn't show up!"

Rose didn't reply, instead her lips twitched behind her apple before she took another bite.

"Mind sharing what's amusing you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her as her expression turned more amused the longer she chewed.

"Well, nothing, really. It's just so fitting with the whole Days of our Lives theme you have going on at the moment, Bells. Perhaps he was held up in Salem for his personality transplant." And with that she smothered back her laughter by taking another bite of her apple.

"Very funny, bitch-face," I grumbled, pulling myself off the sofa brashly and heading toward the kitchen. "Want a coffee?" I asked over my shoulder, begrudgingly, before switching on the percolator and loudly rummaging through the cupboard for my favorite mug; for _his_ mug.

"Thank-you, Marlena Evans," she replied, failing at a second attempt to stifle her laughter.

Despite myself, I felt my lips tug in secret amusement. I actually enjoyed Rose's Days of Our Lives euphemisms. Euphemisms I deserved by committing the most cringe-worthy of clichéd sins; falling in love with my boyfriend's best friend.

Though if I could replace the word "boyfriend" with _"pimp",_ it would be pretty much spot on.

I really had no cause to complain. I'd prostituted my body as payment to mind fuck a man who was well out of my intellectual league. It was something I'd convinced myself at the time it was a necessary evil, so it was a complex I deserved.

At least I knew my priorities were in order.

It took me longer than it really should have to admit to myself that I had feelings for Edward. I had become rather addicted to wearing my beef cake, man whore-tinted glasses, after all. It took even longer to confess it to my two best friends, Rose and Alice. I was anticipating Rose's response; it was probably one of the reasons why I kept up the charade of denial for so long. She of course didn't disappoint, and as soon as I came clean she suggested we watch Melrose Place for possible outcomes.

Bitch!

"I knew there had to be a reason you were fucking that walking dildo," she'd added, triumphantly.

It was moderately comforting to know that Rose had suspected an ulterior motive. Though, it had only been the truth for half of the time I was with Jacob. The other half had been wholly for organic reasons.

In my defense I was only twenty when we first started dating.

And I am not very bright.

Alice's reaction, on the other hand, was one of screechy fangirl enthusiasm over the ridiculous and infinitesimal possibility that we could end up being sisters' in-law. Alice was engaged to Edward's older brother, Jasper. Ironically, the two of them had met when Edward had invited Alice to his twenty-second birthday party.

 _How in God's name did I let this happen?_ I wondered, pouring coffee into two cups as well as over the kitchen sink as I let my mind wander.

But I knew exactly how.

As the only daughter of the town's widowed pastor, I had lived rather a sheltered life. There was never any discussions on what my father deemed improper—which was pretty much everything about being female. I can only thank God for Alice's mother; she'd tactfully sat us down one afternoon and explained the birds and the bees to us. She even took me shopping for my first bra, and bought me my first box of Tampax. I can only imagine the agonies that would have inflicted on both me and my father. As the single father of a teenaged daughter he constantly looked like he was on the cusp of having an aneurysm, and the older I got the larger the vein in his temple became. Then one day, obviously accepting the inevitable, he decided the best course of action was to traumatize me over a bowl of Fruit Loops.

We'd been sitting down at the breakfast table in our usual semi-awkward silence when he folded his newspaper to gaze at me for several seconds.

When I looked up at him and met his sedate eyes, he began, "Isabella, you're becoming a woman now, and there are things you need to know."

I swallowed thickly and contemplated drowning myself in my cereal. "Yes, Dad?"

"Boys your age are dirty minded heathens, intent only on defiling their bodies. If you have sex with one of them you will get gonorrhea and you will die a slow painful death. Then you will go to hell." And with that said, he ruffled his newspaper before disappearing behind it again.

That was my father's version of the birds and the bees. I was fourteen.

Later that afternoon he took me to the dentist to have braces fitted. I suspected it was a last ditch effort on his part to delay the obvious inevitability of my contracting "The Clap".

Was it any wonder that I went completely in the other direction?

By the time I was sixteen I had several nicknames. Hoochie, Jizz Magnet; Voap; Dickmouth; and The Forks Bike. The latter was the one that stuck; as well as being the most accurate.

I was a whore!

The good little daughter of the town pastor, a slut!

Such a cliché!

The more my father attempted to scare me into chastity with various descriptive adjectives of STDs, the more curious I became, until the day I ended all Charlie's hopes that I'd ever wear the purity ring he'd bought me on the sly—in a last ditch effort at denial, on his part—by deciding to throw my virginity—and dignity—to the wind, unceremoniously under the bleachers of Forks High with Tyler Crowely.

It lasted fifteen seconds, and all I'd achieved from it was a rather incriminating grass stain on my skirt, and a wet patch on my knickers, due to the lack of Tyler's—albeit over eager—navigational skills.

After that dismal failure, I wasn't satisfied until ... well, I was _satisfied_. I went through a large part of the male population at Forks High, before discovering that having a rather distasteful reputation was a hell of a lot worse than being devoid of Jackie O.

I first noticed it at school. As I walked down the halls, the girls all parted like the Red Sea, with various expressions of disdain on their faces. I'd noticed Alice amongst them too—pretending not to have noticed me, while blatantly hiding herself behind her folder.

Bitch!

I then noticed it in Church on Sundays. The very nice, judgmental women of the Ladies Auxiliary Club—whom my father made me sit amongst during the service, obviously still holding out hope for my virtue—refused to make eye contact with me. After that I noticed they'd stopped talking to me altogether; though it didn't stop them from saying loud religious idioms around me, like "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" and "Jesus wept" while doing the sign of the cross with excessive pious enthusiasm—as if doing so would prevent my knickers from catching fire and cremating them all! It got to the point where they completely boycotted sitting next to me, and I found myself the only person sitting in the second row pew, with the old battleaxes behind me, trying to outdo one another in praying for my salvation from my ungodly, wanton ways.

Not long after my father started making his sermons—with a beet red face, semi-hidden by his bible—about Mary Magdalen, _the inmate of female penitentiary_. For my benefit, obviously.

Every damn Sunday, until I began secretly suspecting Mary and Jesus had had a bit of their own action beneath the table of the last supper. After all, what red blooded woman could resist Jim Caviezel wearing sandals and a hessian dress, playing a Hebrew God? Especially one who rescued her from the stone throwing biblical version of the ladies Auxiliary Club.

I was truly hell bound, and was guessing I'd gone from inevitable gonorrhea sufferer, to town bike, to crowd splitting whore, to biblical prostitute.

That was the low point in my quest for sexual vindication, and afterward I decided to at least attempt a sexual hiatus. Though pretending to be virtuous definitely inflicted me with the same piously crazed neurosis as the Ladies Auxiliary witches, but it satisfied my father enough that he started leaving medical pamphlets regarding hymen reconstruction in my bathroom. Never mind that it was translated from Arabic as a means to escape an honor killing!

The man remained in serious denial, though, and he'd obviously never found my 12th grade year book, where under my name it read "Isabella Swan; most likely to bicycle her way across the greater Northern Hemisphere."

Of course, those bitches in the year book committee thought they were real hilarious—Alice being the president.

Bitch!

For two years I remained forcefully celibate for the sake of my father's standing amongst the clergy; though, there was always stirrings of my former life of wanton street walker.

A residual tramp whom Rose named "Celeste".

There was nothing celestial about it—at least, not enough that the Ladies Auxiliary biddies stopped flicking holy water at me every Sunday.

But then I decided to end it all—and by that I mean, any and all credibility I ever had as a member of the female species, by falling in mortifying lust with possibly the stupidest male since Sasquatch.

Jacob Black. Tall, tanned and full of bulging muscles that he liked to flex as a favorite pass time. Jacob Black, a complete imbecile who couldn't have sex and breathe simultaneously, and who couldn't possibly love anyone more than himself—preferably in spandex.

The only exception was his best bud, Edward Cullen.

Edward, who was lean, where Jacob was brawny; quiet and reflective, opposed to loud and obnoxious; and intelligent and sweet, to witless and chauvinistic. They were like a perverse version of the Pride and Prejudice where Darcy and Wickham were friends. And in reality, they were the last two guys on the planet that you'd suspect were lifelong friends, but lifelong friends they were.

Jacob had often informed me that no one was as important to him as Edward was. That included me. Of course, at the time it didn't matter to me; I was too mortifyingly diverted by certain washboard abs to have any rational thought.

I'd further shamed myself out of the next two years' worth of respectability by remaining in lust with Jake. With blinders on my eyes and a heavy, sweaty six foot four inch body on top of me, I soon discovered I was rather easily pleased. To be honest, being slammed in the groin every night by a human organ that resembled an accordion bus rounding the New Jersey Turnpike, wasn't all that kept me in the four year-long, mockery of a relationship with Jacob Black.

I stayed because of Edward.

In the beginning it was subconscious; Edward was always the glue that held us together; he made Jake's numerous failings seem redundant. It was Edward who compensated for everything Jake wasn't; his lack of intelligence, civility, decorum—I could go on—while Jacob provided everything physical.

But in the end it was because the very idea of not having Edward in my life made me want to hurl myself off a cliff at La Push; the same one Jake had willingly jumped from not long ago—at my behest. Yes, my ulterior motives did include more than him just hitting his head on the sea bottom, but by then I was a desperate woman.

I still am.

So I stayed and traded my self-respect for the purposes of mind sex with Edward—and was consequently blacklisted from The Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club. Yes, twelve months into my relationship with Jacob—I received a membership request denial letter—filled in by my father, no doubt—in the mail; something Rose still goes into hysterics over when brought up—by her.

Another failed attempt on my father's part to prevent my now inevitable affliction of "The Clap", I was guessing.

I'm still mortified to admit it took almost two years for me to have that moment of clarity. Two years before all Jake's taut muscles and accompanying envious stares I got when in public with him, was unable to stop the inevitable; falling _out of love_ with him—or his tight ass that I used to admire through his ceiling mirror as I was being pummeled—and falling _in love_ with Edward.

It had been so gradual that I never saw it coming, really. It took a lot of soul searching and letting go of certain delusions I'd constructed to save myself from the embarrassment of reality, before I was able to admit it to myself.

And that's how I got here.

"How's the coffee coming, Mrs. Brady?" Rose called out from the sofa, and I could practically see the smirk lighting her face as it reflected in her tone.

Rolling my eyes, I picked up the two mugs and returned to the living room. "Down your bra, cow, if you're not careful," I retorted dryly, handing Rose her mug of coffee.

Sitting down beside her, I sipped the hot liquid thoughtfully, analyzing the last four years in my mind. My feelings for Edward had grown so slowly that I didn't realize it, but I knew the exact moment that had pushed me over the edge.

About two years into the reality of what happens when one equates affection for blow jobs—my relationship with Jacob—he had decided he'd be a good surfer. He then consequently dragged Edward and me to La Push beach every Saturday morning to watch him make a fool of himself as he best tried to show off the angles of his body, while unsuccessfully maneuvering the surfboard.

Edward and I used to spend the time laughing as the great ape repeatedly hit the water, then struggled back on the board before the weight of his muscle mass dragged his ass to the seabed. We both knew Jake's surfing phase was to satisfy his curiosity over how his physique would look in a wet suit, but Edward, ever the loyal friend, humored him every step of the way. While I, of course, only tagged along primarily for the purposes of mind sex with Edward in a pair of board shorts.

Though, I am ashamed to admit that the mind sex was initially reserved for Jake.

In the beginning, I'd spent the entire time sighing wantonly and losing myself in moral depravity at the sight of Jake's body and the contours of his muscles behind the material of his wetsuit. I was pretty much oblivious to Edward, but as the months passed something odd began to happen to me. Initially I just wrote it off as merely the result of a chemical imbalance from being involuntarily celibate during the time Jacob had his appendix removed, but I had suddenly become _palpably_ _aware_ of Edward—something, which had consequently given voice to Celeste.

Celeste who had been quietly lurking just beneath the surface of my skin, waiting for a reason to let loose. Until this point I was in complete control of her. I'd only ever needed to release her in the privy of the few flings I'd had prior to Jake. It wasn't until I became aware of her reaction to Edward, that I began wondering why she had remained MIA during the height of my bestiality with Jacob.

My initial thought was because I had sold my self-respect so completely Celeste felt redundant, and as a result packed her bags and went holidaying in Acapulco until the day I rediscovered my dignity. When in all reality, she had probably given herself a backyard clitorectomy after my first date with Jake and had remained convalescing until the day I began _noticing_ Edward

Though, all too soon just _noticing_ Edward turned into a constant battle to not press myself against his body—more than faking the extent of my shivering allowed—as we pretended to watch Jacob surf. And Edward, always the charming gentleman, accommodated my every move. He acted and reacted to me easily, comfortably—as friends did with each other—without the burden of ever knowing that his best bud's girlfriend wanted to do _wanton, ungodly_ things to him.

Eventually the weather became warmer and I no longer had a legitimate excuse to secretly molest Edward. That was before he'd decided that while He-man, Master of the Universe, surfed, we'd go swimming. Of course, only a lunatic would swim in La Push beach, but Edward had assured me that we wouldn't ever go deeper than our waists, and by that point I would have followed him unwittingly into Hades with a shameless oversexed smile plastered to my face.

And so, with Celeste's approval, I wore bikinis that best hid the scrawny, flat chested elements to my body, while attempting to covertly seduce Edward as we frolicked in the waves together. We did this every Saturday, until the fateful day that I was forced to accept the inevitable truth.

That I had fallen impossibly in love with him.

The day I had surrendered to life's biggest cliché…

It was the end of July and Edward and I were basking in the very rare presence of Washington sunshine. I'd mind fucked him all morning in ways that would have been improper at a BDSM dungeon party. Edward had inevitably noticed how hot and bothered I was, assuming innocently it was from too much sun, and suggested we go for a dip—despite the huge swell of the sea that day.

I'd eyed the size of the waves doubtfully, weighing up whether being potentially drowned was worth the opportunity of witnessing Edward's toned upper half wet and glistening. My whorish side had won out and I chose lechery over self-preservation.

The moment I'd entered the surf I realized it was a bad idea. Even with the water up to my hips, it was rough enough to throw me around, but my rationality was distracted by the fact that Edward's hands barely left me to keep me from being dragged out by the current.

Though, by the third time of being dumped and rolled in the sand, I was no longer seeing any pros in it.

"Let's head back in," I said to him, coughing and spluttering past the last sand-eating episode and wiping the wet strands of hair from my face.

Edward had nodded conceding, when his line of sight shot behind me and his eyes widened in alarm. Because I was facing Edward with my back turned to the ocean, I didn't see the giant wave that was about to crash over me.

It knocked the wind out of me, tumbling me repeatedly into the sand banks until I was so disorientated that I wasn't sure which direction the surface of the water was.

I felt Edward's hand grab mine, but it was immediately pulled from me as I continued to be thrown about in the raging swell.

I'd fought desperately to break the surface, only to be pushed down by wave after wave. It soon got to the point that I was really beginning to panic. I was fast losing my equilibrium and as I attempted to breathe, I swallowed mouthfuls of salty seawater that seared its way down my throat.

The next thing I was aware of was that I'd hit something solid. Tearing myself to the surface long enough to take a huge breath, I realized quickly that I'd been pulled out close to the collection of large rocks about a hundred feet from the beach.

This only presented me with a new dilemma, because now the swell was crashing me repeatedly into it.

I attempted to grab hold, but the surface was smooth and I couldn't manage to get a grip anywhere. I tried screaming out for Edward and Jake but my voice was repeatedly drowned out as I continued to be dragged under.

Just as my mind went foggy and the explosion of pain in my lungs, from lack of oxygen, began to dull, I felt a pair of arms encircle my waist and pull me to the surface.

"I've got you, Bella, hang on to me!" It was Edward's voice, not Jacob's as I had initially thought.

I gasped, pulling the air into my lungs desperately, and clung to him. But as I wrapped my arms and legs around him tightly, I forced both of us back under in my panic.

Edward struggled, weighed down by me, to get us out of danger. We were pulled under several times, but eventually, he'd swam close enough to the shore that he was able to pull himself to his feet.

I can still recall the feel and sound of his heaving chest and the unstable way he walked as he carried me up the sand, but my memories were foggy and incoherent. I only really recall clinging to him as if he was all I had left in this world.

He placed me carefully on my towel then just about collapsed in exhaustion next to me. I stared at the sky, trying to fight the beginnings of shock, while continuing to feel the giddy motion of the ocean.

"Bella? Are you okay?" he asked me with a tender, concerned voice, as he continued to rein in his rapid breath.

I nodded, fighting back the sudden emotion and gingerly sat myself upright. My heart was pounding and a pulsating, burning sensation was suddenly concentrating down my side. I glanced quickly behind me; blood was pouring from a nasty looking gash, and suddenly, the world was spinning.

"Oh shit, Bella. . ." I heard Edward's voice leave his lips in a time-delayed fog, before I promptly threw up over him, then blacked out.

When I came to, I was staring at the sky again, squinting through the glaring sun. Swallowing past the horrible metallic taste in my mouth, I found myself concentrating on the unfamiliar sound of Edward and Jake arguing.

"What the fuck did the two of you think you were doing?" Jake demanded his tone erratic and pissed off.

This was something that was even more uncommon; the sound of Jake expressing open concern for me.

"Jesus—not everything is about you, Jake!" Edward replied, and my forehead immediately creased at the hostility behind his voice. I couldn't recall a time before where I'd ever heard Edward speak to Jake in a similar tone, and it worried me.

I turned my head in the direction of their voices. They were standing about ten feet from me, squaring off at each other, and both looking as equally pissed off. Jake had his arms folded across his chest, while Edward had his arms stiff by his sides, his hands clenched into fists. I found myself staring at the contrast between them, my eyes drawing to Edward, his fair skin, rich chestnut brown hair, and trim, toned body, for the first time with a desire that surprised—even me. As he faced Jake who was taller by two inches and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, he looked angrier—more threatening.

"Dude, I've had these tickets for two months and because you and Bella decided to go swimming after a freaking hurricane, you expect us to miss the game?" Jake huffed, pouting and looking suddenly like he was going to throw an all-out tantrum.

It took a moment for my mind to process his meaning, before I ripped my eyes back to the cloudless sky brashly. I should have known his concern wasn't for me.

He and Edward were flying to Seattle that afternoon to watch a Seahawks game, Sunday. It was one venture I wasn't accompanying them on. But what I wasn't comprehending, was why either one of them would have to _miss_ anything.

"Jesus you're such a selfish asshole!" Edward snapped in response.

"Well you fucking take her then!" Jake yelled back impatiently, his face reddening, fucking petulantly.

Child!

 _Take me where?_ I wondered.

"Your girlfriend almost drowns, she's all cut up by oyster shells that could turn septic any minute, and all you give a shit about is a god-damn football game!"

I turned my head back in time to see Edward run his hand through his damp hair in frustration before turning his back on Jacob in disgust. This is when his eyes met mine and the storm behind them calmed.

In the next instant, Jake was in my line of sight blocking the sky above me with his gargantuan form. "What the fuck were you thinking, Bella?" he demanded with a small, begrudging amount of concern in his tone.

"Nothing! I stopped thinking three years ago when I became your girlfriend!" I blurted out indignantly, but of course having a hopelessly burning and croaky throat made me sound pathetic and meek, and little else.

I tore my eyes from his and tried to prevent them from welling in tears. The pounding down my back was becoming almost unbearable, and I was still fighting the emotion over my near death experience and the fact that Edward … had saved my life.

I watched in frustration as they argued more about me—as If I wasn't lying a few feet away having a wanton epiphany—while I tried to pull some coherency into my thoughts. Despite the fact that I was feeling sore and sorry for myself, a tingling sensation was beginning to course through my veins that was completely alien.

Five minutes later, they'd settled it. I was going to the hospital and Edward was taking me.

Jacob helped me to my feet, cooing and slurping over me, his attention centered on me now that it appeared he wasn't going to be inconvenienced—Edward was.

I brushed him off with irritation and turned to Edward who was gathering our gear to put back in his car. "Edward, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital!" I insisted, but knowing the doubt was edging into my tone even as I spoke it. My body was now burning and every movement I made was causing me to flinch openly.

"Babe, you're going and that's all there is to it."

I whipped my head around and glared at Jake while my skin crawled at the term that used to make me go pitifully weak at the knees. "Fuck you, Jacob!"

"Don't need to, sexy, I got you for that." He winked at me, almost as if he expected me to melt in his arms and giggle like a schoolgirl.

Of course he did, because that's exactly how I would have normally reacted—sans dignity.

I shoved him, pathetically, and of course, he didn't move an inch; he didn't even waver. What he did do was grin at me cockily then tried to draw me in to kiss me. But the very idea was repugnant to me, and I pulled away from him in reflex.

His eyebrows shot high on his forehead in surprise.

"Just get in your car and piss off. I'd hate to see you miss your flight," I growled at him sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest and almost buckling from the pain that assaulted my senses, as the skin around my back pulled tighter. I'd almost cried out, squeezing my eyes shut as I willed the pain to ease.

I felt his mammoth hand grip my arm to steady me, and opening my eyes, I met the dark depths of his. Confusion alighted them rather than concern. "Be reasonable, babe. Come on."

This was typical of Jake, but because I'd sold myself out in a relationship that was based entirely on Neolithic sex, I shouldn't have been surprised. My emotional needs never came into consideration when I was self-medicating myself on orgasms.

I snorted to myself, before raising my head and looking Jacob square in the eyes. "Just go," I whispered. I wasn't sure if I had any right to be angry at him, and by that point I was feeling too miserable and sorry for myself to manage even a monotone.

Jake pecked me quickly on the cheek, before I could move to avoid him, before he picked up his surfboard and headed to his car. As he passed Edward, he stopped and spoke quietly to him for a moment. I only stared at my feet trying to hide the fact that I was succumbing to tears, when Edward's shadow fell across me.

He wrapped his arm over my shoulders, and I felt the warmth of his skin immediately envelop me. "Come on, Bella," he spoke softly, almost as if he was lost in thought.

I looked up at him, not caring that my tears were evident, and gauged his expression. He broke into a warm smile and squeezed me gently. My heart stalled a little, and I looked away suddenly feeling flustered, but I was also feeling terrible guilt.

Biting down on my lip, I caught his gaze once more, before sighing heavily. "I'm sorry, Edward. You don't have to stay. I can go with Rose or…" The words died on my lips, mainly because his smile broadened as if what I was saying secretly amused him.

"Don't be a dope, Bella. Jake's right; it's my fault this happened, and I couldn't go to the game when you're in this shape." Something flickered in his eyes and he glanced down, his eyebrows drawing closely together. My heart hammered in my chest, reacting openly to the words that I'd never heard from Jake. "I'm going to see if I can find something to clean that cut up. Okay?" When he glanced back at me, his green eyes were burning intensely and serious again.

"Okay." I nodded quickly, my voice barely audible. I was beginning to feel faint, and I slumped up against him. This is when recognition hit me. "I threw up on you. . ." I internally groaned, while my face flamed hot with mortification.

He chuckled softly, the humming feel of it through his chest lessening my embarrassment a little. "That you did."

"God—I'm so sorry." I released my breath and rubbed my forehead, feeling the heat of my humiliation residing there.

"Don't worry about it. It was just sea water anyway." The tenderness to his voice still held an edge of amusement, before he placed his arm around me gently and led me toward his car.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, past the wave of pain that was pounding throughout my back, and broke into a small smile.

That's how Edward was. Whenever I was fighting with Jake—which was most days—he always had a way of making me feel like it was all irrelevant.

I sat in the passenger seat, while Edward wet the old t-shirt he'd found in his trunk, under a nearby faucet. I was still in my bikini with almost one entire side of me—from shoulder to knee—covered in scratches that were stinging like a bitch. I couldn't see the place where the cuts ran deeper, but I could see the blood. The blood, which I had convinced myself was the reason I was trembling and literally enshrouded in indecent looking goose bumps.

When Edward came back to the car, the damp shirt torn into smaller shreds, he gently maneuvered me so my back was facing him. Tentatively, he wiped his warm hands over my back and sides clearing it of sand, before—with the gentlest of pressure—he pressed the cloth directly over my cut skin.

Sucking in my breath violently, I almost literally jumped through the roof; it burned like fire.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry, Bella," he blurted hastily, before exhaling so deeply, I felt it caress my swollen skin, soothingly. "It's a mess and I think this cut might need stitching."

"Oh God. . ." I mumbled, the very idea of it suddenly making me feel very faint.

Covering my eyes, I forcefully rid it from my thoughts and concentrated solely on Edward's hands; one that apprehensively wiped the damp cloth across my battered flesh, and the other that was curved around my bare hip.

After several minutes where the burning in my skin began to merge with the tingling of an overstimulated charge, Edward finished cleaning the blood from my back. Contemplating my reaction to him helped distract me from the pain, but as soon as he was finished, the concern shrouding his eyes brought me straight back down to earth.

After helping me back into my clothes, we drove in continued silence to Quick Care.

After fifty minutes of waiting, the doctor took one look at my back, bandaged it up and ordered me to the nearest ER.

Edward, without complaining, drove me to the Olympic Medical Centre, and we waited in the ER waiting room for a further three hours until I was finally seen.

By that point, I was beginning to feel terrible. I was faint, nauseous and suffering with the beginnings of a fever. I clung to Edward, who indulged me and held his arm around me in a concerned, protective way. I sensed his hesitation with every breath he took, but I was in no condition for platonic formalities; I was sick, needy and craving contact.

The next hour was one of the most horrendous in my life. My torn skin had to be cleaned and then stitched, but before this could be done, the wound itself was injected several times to numb, disinfect, clean—I wasn't entirely sure what, all I knew that it was like being pierced by a burning hot iron.

I had to sit upright for the doctor to be able to access it, and this time I gripped Edward without a single reservation, grasping his sides, and gripping and twisting his shirt in my closed fists. He held my arms, trying to hold me steady as I jerked reflexively from the needles while attempting to swallow past the almost involuntary urge of calling the doctor a "cocksucker".

To digress, yes, pain derived Tourette's Syndrome had become inherent in me—a permanent side effect from the two years when I'd attempted celibacy.

After what seemed like the tenth freaking needle, and after almost reefing Edward's t-shirt from his back, he curved his palm around the nape of my neck and pulled me against him.

"Squeeze my hand, Bella," he said to me, softly; sounding genuinely disturbed.

It was just in time for me to blurt out a muffled "fuck you" into his chest, which thankfully, accompanied by an angry, pain-filled roar, was unintelligible at best. I didn't want him to think it was directed at him, and to be brutally honest, I wasn't entirely sure it wasn't. He was so caring and sweet, talking me through each jab that it was making me emotional—and angry. Angry because Jacob was an asshole and he was his best friend; angry because I was fucking pissed at that moment that he _was_ Jake's best friend.

But maybe it was the morphine. I told myself that, while not even being entirely sure that I'd been given any.

By the time my _wound_ was cleaned and ready to be stitched, all pretenses at anger had vanished. I was a whimpering, pitiful excuse, and hanging onto Edward's hand as though, he was all that was keeping me together—he was.

Blessedly, by the time my skin was being sewn back together, my back was completely numb. All that I had to contend with was Edward's hands, as he wiped my hair from my face; the soft, timbre of his voice as he told me how many I had left, and the astute intensity of his eyes as they kept me focused.

I closed my eyes trying to collect my thoughts and determine whether anything I was feeling was genuine or the product of some narcotic having an orgy through my blood stream. This was when I felt his lips connect with my brow, soft and warm, and lingering against my skin briefly, before he placed them to my ear. "You're a tough one, Bella."

I knew then that I had to be spinning on drugs. It was too tender, his voice too raw and honest. It was as if he'd said something entirely different.

This was when my pain induced, obscenity-vomiting kicked in again and I told him to fuck himself. Though, I suspected this time it was the result of emotional pain.

"Bella, calm down." He pulled out that soft, resonating tone again and its effects were almost instant.

I felt my head drop against his chest and a heavy sigh escape my lips. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I know; you're almost done."

"Did we just have a baby? How many did we have?" I asked, drunkenly this time, but I was spinning, and again I couldn't be sure it was only from the result of the painkillers I wasn't even positive they'd given me.

He laughed, softly, beneath his breath and through his nose, before I again felt the presence of his tender lips press to my forehead.

"Five," he answered.

"Oh, get a room, Celeste!" Rose's voice blasted into my thoughts, immediately returning me to the present moment.

"We had five babies," I whispered, wistfully.

Rose's brow quirked upwards. "Come again?"

"I've fucked it up haven't I?" I shook my head, trying to dislodge the panic from getting too deeply anchored. Panic that had been my closest companion ever since the day that I'd decided—or rather coerced by my two bitch-faced best friends—to give up the charade I was living.

In other words, break up with Jacob and say goodbye to Edward.

"Mmmm, fucked up isn't quite the right word. You settled for Jake, Bella, and now you've convinced yourself that you can settle as only Edward's friend. Even in Aaron Spelling's prime time viewing"—she broke off smirking deviously while I scowled deeply at her—"it's not going to end well."

My hand subconsciously slid around to my back where the remnants of mine and Edward's five babies remained. I felt an overwhelming pain begin to converge on me, before my eyes filled steadily with hot, salty tears, until they were slipping silently down my face.

"I still think you should tell him," Rose spoke, this time in a gentler tone, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and squeezing me in empathy.

I shook my head quickly, hastily wiping the evidence of emotion from my face. "No, it's pointless. Edward and Jake have been friends since they were five years old. I'm a fifth wheel, I always have been. And besides, I'd never ask Edward to choose, even if he did feel something for me."

Rose expelled her breath before she got up from the sofa, walked into the kitchen and placed her empty mug in the dishwasher. "You know my feelings on that—anyway, do you want the shower first?"

I shook my head absently, still half-immersed in my thoughts. "No, you go first."

"Okay," she shrugged and made for the stairs, before pausing and turning back to me. "But if I think Edward feels something for you will you at least think about it?"

"Maybe," I mumbled.

"You know I wouldn't screw you, Bella. I haven't ever seen the two of you alone without that ape-man of yours always present. That's the only reason I can't say either way— _promise me_!" Her tone suddenly rose and my attention quickly snapped in her direction, before I felt my lips twitch in response.

"Bite me, Little Miss Grand Supreme," I retorted, making reference to Rose's childhood pageant days, to which she immediately flashed me a creepy, pseudo-fake smile before turning and disappearing up the stairs.

I forced the smile to remain on my face until it was a lost cause and my cheek muscles were burning, before I accepted the melancholy that was pulling rank. Rose had never seen me and Edward together, but over the last twelve months we'd spent the majority of our free time with each other.

Not long after I had almost drowned at La Push Beach, Jake began to come up with excuses why he couldn't join Edward and me for the weekends. He always encouraged the two of us to hang out together, but regardless of the fact that I'd accepted I had fallen in love with Edward, I continued to struggle with it. I guess that's why, rather naively, I never suspected anything was going on with Jake. When I finally began to clue on, it actually helped alleviate the guilt I was beginning to feel over what I was, by then knowingly, doing; prostituting myself with Jacob to get my weekends with Edward. But the intensity of my feelings for Edward superseded common decency, and Jacob screwing around on me while I was well aware of it, and using it to feel better about my wanton nights of mind fucking with Edward, only made it seem more depraved.

Eventually, my conscience got the better of me, and I made a plan to end it. It might have been subconscious, but I stopped having sex with Jake. This was about six months previous, and I was all but convinced it would have been the last straw for him. I had basically pulled back all contact with him, but was still having sex with him to keep the degraded charade going.

Only, when I stopped, Jake didn't even mention it, let alone react to it.

I admit, like the stealth whore that I was, I was relieved. I no longer had to have the cringe worthy experience of Jake's silver-backed torso schlepped all over me, and I got to keep Edward around—for a bit longer, at least.

For almost twelve months, I had Edward all to myself, with Jake putting in a few for-appearances-only Friday nights before he disappeared to screw the semi-prettiest girl he'd crossed paths with that night.

Normally, Edward and I would ditch the nightclub and do goofy things together like ten-pin bowling, before we'd end up at his house, watching movies and snuggling on the couch together, eating popcorn.

Edward was always the gentleman, always loyal to his best bud—whether he harbored feelings for me or not, and our time together soon became too much for me to bear. I loved him too much to go on pretending that I'd ever be more to him than just his best friend's girlfriend, or even pretending that it was enough. It wasn't, and ironically, my desire to have Edward around soon gave way to the torture of spending every weekend with him and only him.

I knew I had to face the fact that I couldn't have Edward, and no amount of hoping, mind fucking, fantasizing, or whatever delusional method I'd used to anesthetize myself from the truth, was going to change it.

I wanted to have cut myself off from Jake before Alice and Jazz's engagement party tonight. I no longer wanted to _see_ Jake, let alone puke my way through an evening of having the great ape feel me up.

Jazz had invited him and I guess the general consensus was that he'd come with me anyway. We _were_ still technically together, and simpleminded Jacob, with the lack of fuckable bimbos in the perimeter, would no doubt find a place to warm his lecherous hands.

I shuddered, openly and audibly. The prick had not turned up for the scheduled break-up, but no doubt, he'd be there tonight. He'd never miss an opportunity to consume free alcohol and get drunk enough to remove his shirt.

I wanted to slam my head down into the coffee table at the frustrated disbelief that I'd ever sold myself out by drooling over that fire truck with a dick!

So I did.

"GOD DAMN, SON OF A—," I broke off to smother my pain driven Tourette's, behind a pissed off groan with obvious sentiments of self-pity.

My iPhone rang.

Shuffling to my handbag, I rummaged around in it, one handed—while my other hand still gripped my twitching brow—before I found it and yanked it to my ear. "What—god damn it?"

"Baaaaaabe,"Jacob's slurpy voice assaulted my ear, giving me a reflexive urge to projectile vomit.

"Where the fuck were you today?" I demanded into the phone holding it at arm's length to protect my stability from his over confident drawl.

"Belly, I'm sick. I've got—,"

"Chlamydia?" I jumped in, unable to restrain my sarcasm.

"Ha-ha, not that you'd know anything about that?" he replied dryly, in a very uncharacteristic, un-Jacob kind of way. The only thing that upset Jake after all, was a pimple on his back.

"Well what's wrong with you that prevented you from the _fucking courtesy_ of calling to say you weren't going to make it?"

"Glandular fever—I was at the doctors," he admitted with a genuine sigh behind his words.

I snorted loudly and without sympathy. I'd contracted glandular fever once at summer camp when I was fifteen; I'd caught it _Celesting_ a boy in the woods.

"Poor snookum's, but how surprising!" My tone was venom laced by that point, but I wasn't in the mood to contemplate my degree of disdain for the moron who was once the center of my universe.

"Why are you being such a bitch?" he spat back suddenly losing patience.

I paused for a moment deciding whether I should just throw it all to the wind and break up our farce for a four-year relationship over the phone.

"I want to end this bullshit we have together, Jake, because the sight of you these days—the very sound of your voice—makes me want to be _physically sick_!" I came clean between clenched teeth, unable to hold back the emotion or conviction from my voice.

He paused for a moment, before asking cynically. "Who are you fucking?"

"What?" I demanded incredulous and offended that he'd put me in the same category as him—though Celeste, on my behalf, almost blurted out Edward's name.

You wish, whore!

"You heard. So come on, who is it?"

"Fuck you, asshole! Just because you're screwing any girl you can find who has a single digit IQ!"

"Yeah and I started with you, _Princess!_ " He really sounded pissed off by now, and for the first time I noticed the fatigue in his voice. The asshole probably _was_ sick.

"Yeah well—whatever. I just want to end this sham and try and drag back some of the dignity I lost by being your blow up sex doll for four years."

"At least you weren't in denial. Now is that all? 'Cause I gotta go. There's still a few more girls smarter than you willing to fuck me." He hung up. He'd sounded upset despite the hardness in his voice, and despite my present anger, the realization of it in his tone tugged at my heart. I wasn't delusional, I knew the creep wasn't heartbroken over me; rather, he was offended by what I'd said.

I had been pretty mean, and if I was being completely honest with myself, I knew I didn't have a single reason to hate him. He was a self-absorbed, conceited dickhead, but he never promised anything above what he delivered. I knew it, and yet I was more than willing to accept those terms in the days before my brain evolved beyond being stimulated by a tight ass and layers of abs.

When I was one of those girls with a single digit IQ. . .

I hated Jake now, but only out of resentment, and the reason I resented him was because he was Edward's best friend; which automatically made Edward off limits to me. As much as I wouldn't hurt Edward by coming between his friendship with Jake, I wouldn't do it to Jake either.

I had no right to.

I pulled myself up the stairs to my room, being dragged down by the inevitable weight of pain with each step I took. It was over—after four years. But it wasn't Jake that I'd mourn with the end of it; it was Edward. Now that I'd broken up with Jake, I knew I'd have to say goodbye to Edward as well. Sure, we could still hang out like old times, only the thought of that created a swelling of both hope and pain to unleash the threat of more tears on me.

I shrugged them off with stubborn resolve. There'd be plenty of time for tears, but not tonight. It was Alice and Jasper's engagement party, and my last night as Edward Cullen's, best friend's girlfriend.

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 **A/N: If you're new to this fic it'd be nice to know your thoughts, but otherwise, see you soooon. *smooch***


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was meaning to upload this chapter earlier, but rewriting this story, as well as writing Because of You, might delay the chapters somewhat. Only by a few days, though. Bear with me.  
Just a head's up, this story is complete, so it won't go back on hiatus.**

 **And no, in answer to a PM, Celeste is not a self aware, conscious entity who is separate from Bella. Bella's not schizophrenic. Celeste is the whorish side to Bella's personality, who'd like her to return to her former wanton ways.**

 **Oh, and thanks for all the faves and follows, guys. If I PM you to thank you for a fave, it's because I thank everyone who faves me. I'm not slyly guilting you into reviewing, but if you'd like to. . . :D**

 **Annnnywho, chapter two. . .**

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 **Chapter 2**

 **Party favors**

Alice and Jasper's engagement party was being held in Alice's parent's backyard,and being early August, it was the perfect weather for it; the driest month of the year.

After being greeted by Mrs. Brandon at the front door, Rose and I were ushered through to the rear entrance of the house, where we found ourselves under a humongous white tent with hundreds of fairy lights twinkling overhead.

I sighed inwardly, muttering under my breath, "How fucking romantic." In which Rose turned to me with the beginnings of a smirk.

Glancing around, I scanned the forming crowds for Alice, when we suddenly heard her squeals only seconds before she propelled herself into both of us, simultaneously.

"Guuuuuuys!" she gushed after a frenzied moment of cheek kissing. "Oh my _god_ , can you believe how great this looks?"

Rose and I shook our heads, emphatically, no.

"It's amazing, Al," Rose went on to add.

"It is! Dad, Jazz, Em and Edward were working on it all day." She turned to me, her tone immediately dropping to an over exaggerated whisper. "Speaking of whom, my soon-to-be-brother-in law only a few minutes ago asked me when you were coming." She winked and I knew that I had to exit-stage-left. She had that wicked gleam in her eye and I knew that if I didn't leave—effective immediately—she would single handedly announce my feelings, over loud speaker, for all the guests to hear.

"I'm getting a drink," I mumbled, too hastily, revealing the extent of my nervous psychosis, before stumbling in the general direction of the bar.

I'd just pulled my breathing back from its position of neurotic panic, when a shadow fell over me.

Edward; I'd know his presence anywhere.

"Hello, stranger—was wondering when you were going to show up." His deep voice washed out playfully over my temple, before he slung his arm around my shoulders, and I was suddenly shrouded in his god damn, sexy as all hell cologne.

And Celeste, the best-friend-stealing whore, moaned his name beneath my breath and my knees came close to buckling.

"Miss me would you?" It amazed me that I sounded so calm, considering that I was inhaling that scent deep into my lungs. But then I glanced up at him, and my heart screeched to an immediate halt—while I was almost positive the elastic in my knickers snapped.

 _Mother of God!_ I blinked several times, as if that was exactly who I was seeing.

Put Edward next to Jake and the majority of women, as well as a large percentage of Pastor's daughters—my category—would make an immediate beeline for Jake. Edward was handsome in a boyish way, almost as if it was by accident. He always had a perpetual twenty-four hour amount of stubble aligning his chin and jaw, while his hair was held together by those long fingers of his constantly pulling through it. He was the guy you noticed second, then wanted to kick yourself that you did. Because on closer inspection, tall, lean Edward Cullen was _devastatingly_ handsome.

Forget the danger of his smile, when Edward took the time to put more of an effort in his appearance—like he had tonight—well needless to say, if all those women who'd first noticed Jake, saw what I was seeing, there'd be collective knicker compromising all over the world.

He smiled down at me in that charming way of his, where his brow was half cricked, as though he was trying to read my mind. Then his grin broadened and he removed his hand from around me and placed it on his heart. "My night would have been filled with loneliness and sorrow," he teased me, his tone too warm, seizing my gaze and holding it capture to his lips.

I pulled my eyes free—not confident speaking to him while they yearned to undress him as we stood there—before taking a barely controlled breath, and attempted to relax my shoulders. It was then that the smile conquered my expression and I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're a dork," I replied with genuine affection.

'Cause that's just how it was with us. He made me feel so at ease, despite every contradicting, primal urge within me.

He chuckled, before suddenly holding out a glass of wine for me. "Here you go—looking for one of these?"

I grinned wryly up at him, taking it from his hand. "Always a step ahead of me, aren't you?"

My eyes caught his only briefly, and the corners of his were just beginning to crinkle with the emergence of that hazardous smile. I couldn't gaze too long into his eyes; as much as I really could relinquish my sanity in them. I found that lately I broke out into spontaneous mind-fucking and he always enquired about my resulting full body blush.

As I took a moment to collect myself, I peripherally noticed that he'd turned his head from me as well, reaching up to rub the nape of his neck, his fingers running idly through the back of his hair.

I cleared my throat loudly, almost wishing I could unleash Celeste on him. At least then I wouldn't feel so constantly awkward around him.

"Want to grab a seat?" he asked turning to gaze down at me, his brow pulling high on his forehead, his smile slowly coming back into position.

"Umm . . . yeah, just let me congratulate your brother first. Where is he?"

Jesus, I could barely look at him without my blood instantly climaxing to the surface of my face.

He glanced around us before pointing his brother out a few seconds later.

I made my way over to Jasper on pathetically feeble and wobbly legs. The full impact of a spruced up Edward, leaning against me, was delayed until exactly that moment—after I'd allowed myself to take a deep breath in and slap Celeste back into the corner.

By the time I reached Jasper, I was close to turning into a puddle of water.

"Hey, Jazz!" I greeted him warmly, reaching up with one arm to embrace him quickly. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks, Bella—thanks for coming." Edward's brother smiled down at me with identical green eyes. "You might have to calm down Alice though; she's a little hyper tonight." His eyes immediately lit up and turned in the direction of his overzealous fiancé.

I laughed softly. "I think that ship's already sailed."

He chuckled in agreement, before asking, "Where's Jake? Did you guys come together?"

Tension crept up my spine at just the mere mention of his name. "He's not coming. He's . . . _sick_ ," I answered stiffly, not bothering to hide the aversion from my expression or tone.

Jasper's lip twitched a little. "Trouble in paradise?"

I laughed without a shred of humor. "Yeah, something like that."

His grin grew. He was one of many who found amusement at the idea of me and Jake, and I wondered if I'd ever get back any of the dignity I'd lost because of it.

"Just make sure to have fun tonight though, okay? Open bar." He winked.

Nodding, I held up my glass. "I intend to."

When I turned around to make my way back to Edward, my heart stalled for the second time in ten minutes. He was chatting to Alice. It was almost a comical sight—if I wasn't about to suffer a cerebral hemorrhage. Edward, a foot taller than Alice, towered over her, having to practically bend himself in half to hear what she was saying.

What _was_ she saying? I wondered, contemplating a panic attack, as my heart thumped so heavily in my chest, I began to feel breathless.

 _She wouldn't_ , I told myself internally, holding firm to the trust I had in one of my closest friends with a pathetic amount of desperation.

I paused, summoning my courage, before proceeding toward the two of them, holding myself together as casually as I could. Abysmal failure, I could already feel my cheeks burning with the same intensity as if I'd been mind-fucking Edward, only this time it was because of genuine fear.

"Bells—guys, come and get a seat!" Alice exclaimed with excessive enthusiasm, grabbing my hand along with Edward's and pulling us over to an unoccupied—rather secluded—table for two.

I sighed beneath my breath, while Celeste added tinges of arousal to it, yet Edward sat down, seeming unfazed.

I took the seat opposite him, without knowing if I was reluctant or eager.

"You don't have a drink, Edward. What do you want? I'll grab you one!" Alice's tone and enthusiasm had gone up a notch, while the endless pummeling of my heart began inducing nausea.

"I can get—" Edward attempted to protest, but Alice was insistent. "A beer," he answered finally, and Alice—like the matchmaker on crack that she was—rushed off to get him one.

Edward waited until after she'd returned with his drink and left again, eyeing me dubiously the whole time, before he leaned his elbows on the table, hunching closer to me. "What's the matter, Bella?"

I swallowed thickly, again ironically wishing Celeste was in charge, instead of this nervous dyspeptic that was me. "Nothing. What makes you ask that?"

"You're distracted and you look. . ." he bunched up his brow in evident contemplation, "agitated. . ."

It was comforting to know that my infatuation-slash-horniness came across as agitation.

"I'm fine," I said simply.

"You're not," he countered.

I took a sip of my wine, wanting to skull it—if only for its chilling effects—and shrugged, but didn't offer a reply.

"Is it Jake?"

" _Fuck Jake_!" I spat.

A look of amusement flickered across his expression, before he cleared his throat. "Okay." He took a mouthful of beer from the plastic cup in front of him, but it didn't extinguish his smile.

It pissed me off that he laughed at me so often. As if he didn't take as single thing I said seriously; as if he didn't take _me_ seriously.

I scoffed at myself internally. Who in their right mind would take me seriously? As Jake's girlfriend for the last four years, I'd lost all credibility.

"Shut up, Edward." I sighed, staring down into my half-full wine cup.

"Is this about him not coming? 'Cause he really is sick, you know."

Of course he'd defend him. What did I expect? He'd been defending Jake for as long as I'd known him.

"Edward. . ." I blurted out in frustration, before I lost the momentum, "it's not about Jake, so please just drop it." It was only half a lie, I told myself, before looking up and meeting Edward's pensive gaze.

He smiled at me warmly and without reservation and I wanted to cry.

I could not fathom my life without him in it—even as the goofy best friend of my imbecile, man-stud boyfriend. So how in god's name was I going to be able to let him go?

The emotion of it was beginning to burn in my throat, but stubbornly I held it back, swallowing past it, before taking a wavering breath. When I braved a peep at Edward, his smile had waned and had turned sad, while there was something that clouded behind his eyes that appeared almost like stirring anger.

He leaned closer to me again, motioning for me to do the same. "Want to get drunk?" he teased me gently, and that was enough to sever my melancholy completely.

I expelled my breath, breaking into an easy smile. "Yes, but not tonight. Tomorrow?"

"Deal," he replied, before grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the table. "Come on, let's dance."

He'd already dragged me to the dance floor before I could protest, but I voiced my concerns nonetheless. "Edward—you know I have two left feet."

"I know." He grinned to himself, as if he enjoyed torturing me. "Just stop whining and loosen up." And with that he placed both his hands on my hips, effectively rendering all resistance void.

Edward, like the irresistible dork that he was, danced before me, trying to get me to swing my hips along with him. It was pointless; I didn't have a coordinated bone in my body. But the more awkwardly I moved the broader that grin became until I was forced to look down and bite my bottom lip to push the pornographic thoughts into submission. Though, he didn't seem to notice that it was him who made me _distracted and agitated_.

Chuckling, he grabbed me by the hand, pulling me swiftly against his chest, before curving his hand around my waist; leading me playfully back and forth in an impromptu waltz.

I was becoming caught up in my feet and yet I couldn't stop laughing. That was apart from being completely immersed by the sound of his.

God, I loved his laugh.

"Edward—stop!" I finally managed.

So he did.

"Okay, I'm going to get another drink—want one? He raised his voice, despite leaning in closer to my ear, making Celeste immediately stir, while I all but swayed.

"Yeah," I replied, my smile involuntary.

I stood practically dazed, watching him maneuver through the crowds, until another voice, inches from my ear, snapped me immediately from my salacious thoughts, and making me jump in surprise.

"I think it's safe to say that Edward would fuck you right here on the dance floor if he could find a way around it."

Rose!

I whipped around to meet her all-knowing smirk and had the sudden urge to start all out giggling. Instead, I feigned ignorance. "W-what do you mean?"

She arched a cynical brow at me. "Oh, you know very well, _Celeste_."

My only reply was a rapidly emerging case of hives, as my nerve endings began exploding one by one, at the very idea of it, when she turned me in the direction of a large group of guys; Jazz being in the center of them. "See over there? It's all the guys, and you'd think, as Jasper's brother, Edward would be amongst that group. But he's not, because he's with you, while the two of you are seeing who can gaze into each other's eyes the longest."

"We-we're just dancing," I stammered, as my hand came up and subconsciously grabbed my heart, and my left breast.

"Dancing. . ." she echoed dubiously, grabbing my hand free, before her eyes flickered passed me, just moments before Edward's arm appeared over my shoulder, holding out another plastic cup of wine.

He'd caught me off guard, and with the notion that he'd just over heard Rose's conversation with me, I was rendered instantly flustered and overheated.

Taking the cup from him, I took a quick, clumsy gulp, while Edward, instead of removing his arm, left it draped over my shoulder; leaning into me slightly.

Oh god. . .

I avoided Rose's smug, confident gaze by drawing the cup in front of my face and taking a larger gulp.

"Hey, Rose, want a drink?" Edward asked.

"Aren't you sweet, but no thanks. I'm good. I'm biding my time before they serve the food."

"Good idea," Edward replied, before guiding me off the dance floor—without removing his arm.

Groaning internally, and wantonly, I downed the rest of my wine.

A circulation of warmth began to flow through me. I wasn't sure if it was Edward or the wine, but what I did know was that the desire building within me was becoming agonizing. "Yeah, I need to e-eat," I stuttered, "—and use the restroom."

Ducking beneath the weight of his arm, I darted off in the direction of the house, pulling Rose along with me.

When we reached the bathroom, I locked the door and walked over to the basin, leaning my hands heavily on the counter; trying to stave off the imminent presence of tears.

"I didn't realize how hard this would be," I confessed, my voice softly wavering, before I turned my head to glance at Rose. "It's killing me."

"Have you told him you broke up with Jake?" she put to me.

I shook my head, staring down into the sink.

She paused for a moment, while I concentrated on reining in the threat of all out sobbing; stubbornly refusing to allow a single tear escape.

"Remember when I said I'd be brutally honest—even if I had to tell you something that you didn't want to hear?" Her tone was serious.

I looked up and met her unusually serious gaze through the reflection of the bathroom mirror. "Yeah?"

"You have two options, Bells. Tell him how you feel or let him go, because he's got it _bad_ for you!"

With my skin suddenly alight and buzzing, I turned fully to face her. "You . . . think?" I asked, my voice practically a whisper, while I was pretty sure my bra just went the way of my knickers and self-sacrificed!

Rose's response was her typical smirk, before her eyes rolled deliberately. "I'd be surprised if your name isn't tattooed on his ass!"

I moaned; I was suddenly as horny as a tomcat. In fact, I had to press my lips together tightly to suppress if from becoming inappropriate—not that Rose would mind. But before it had fully died from my lips the tone of it deepened with irritation. Dragging my palm across my brow, I clawed at it with my fingertips. "Yeah—but that doesn't help me, Rose. Fuck it—why does he have to be so . . . so—" I broke off, grunting out my frustration loudly.

She grinned at me shrewdly, before half shrugging. "It's why they make movies out of it."

I threw the washcloth at her.

Thankfully, by the time we reemerged from the house, Edward had found his way over with the guys and seemed happy to remain with them.

Rose and I sat ourselves at a large table with several people that were all being entertained by Alice, who by that point, was pretty merry.

"You!" she pointed a finger at me, her expression manic, her voice rising several cringe-worthy decibels. "How did I not notice you and Edward before? Oh. My. God!"

Every pair of eyes at the table turned to rest on me, just as my cheeks spontaneously combusted.

I elbowed Rose; it was purely pre-emptive.

In the next instant, Alice pulled Rose and me into a huddle, giggling like crazy. "Bells, freaking hell—what a dilemma!" Her giggling was turning deranged, without any indication that it was about to drop in volume.

"Yes, thanks, Als, for the reminder." My tone was dry, but I wasn't angry, despite the continued charge of mortification causing heat stroke in my veins.

"You have to tell him! It's _so obvious_ with him—you _have_ to give it a chance!"

Rose made a smug sound into her drink while I flinched. Alice's tone was still hovering a decibel below shouting.

"Shhhh—okay! I'll think about it," I replied in a harsh whisper, "but only if you promise to not mention it again tonight."

"Ok-kay, I promise." She hiccupped, before bursting into a half smothered squealing sound.

Rolling my eyes, I promptly sent her over to her other guests, before she suddenly announced loudly, "LOVE IS IN THE AIR!"

I didn't release my breath, or unlock my spine until I could no longer hear her voice through the crowd, while eyeing her like a buzzard to make sure that she didn't make a beeline in Edward's direction.

"Get me a fucking drink before I have a coronary," I muttered, before turning back around, only to be faced with Emmett and Rose smacking lips, while Emmett was barely concealing the fact that he was feeling her up beneath the table.

Emmett was Alice's older brother and Rose's sometimes fuck buddy. Or, to use Rose's own words "her back up plan in case she ever forgot to pack her vibrator".

I cleared my throat deliberately. Rose only cocked open an eye at me but continued schmoozing with Emmett while her lips curved into a smirk.

"Crass, much?" I huffed, getting out of the chair to go in search of alcohol.

"Oh, hey, Bells," Emmett slurped an incoherent greeting to me, his tongue quite obviously occupied.

Shuddering, I quickened my step.

Somehow, and in keeping with the theme of the night, I found myself being drooled over by half drunken, obscure relatives of the bride and groom to be. One letch, who informed me that his name was Gavin Slavin, and a second cousin of Alice's, made no secret that he was staring down at my cleavage—to the point that he began making lewd innuendos regarding what size bra I was wearing, before I made my escape.

Over the following hour things improved only slightly when I became entrapped by Alice's Nanna; who offered to give me a private slide show viewing of her latest trip to Florida. I fully suspected she had the slides—complete with projector—stashed in her purse, in the event that unsuspecting humans, like me, wandered too close to her. When I politely declined, citing optical reasons—okay, I lied and said I was short-sighted and I'd left my glasses at home—she demonstrated that she was in fact apart of Alice's gene pool, by arranging for me to dance with her recently divorced grandson, Kevin Slavin.

Kevin Slavin turned out to be Gavin's less appropriate brother; which he quickly confirmed by asking if I'd like to accompany him for some _extra-curricular activity_ in his car. Either Kevin was under the misapprehension that being set up for a dance by your grandmother equated consent for sex, or slide show enthusiast, Nanna Slavin, went by the name of _Madam_ Slavin after hours. Either which, my knee was about to engage in some _extra-curricular activity_ with Kevin's testicles, when he was suddenly intercepted by Edward.

"Thought you could use some rescuing," he said, his grin growing broad with amusement, before taking my hand and drawing me closer than I'd allowed Kevin Slavin to venture.

As usual, he'd taken me completely by surprise, causing my _distraction-slash-agitation_ , to promptly go into overdrive. My only response was some unintelligible utterance, while my face burst into flames and Celeste shook her maracas.

Edward, ever oblivious, only chuckled softly and pulled me even closer.

Good god. . .

Leaning further into him, I cleared my throat, in the hand that was wrapped around his shoulder, and inadvertently caught myself completely entranced by the smell of him. His cologne was intermingled with the smell of beer, and the woody scent of him, and this time Celeste completely and expeditiously came out to play. Furthermore, to add insult to ridiculously cruel injury, it was perfectly timed with the change from pop music to love songs, over the loudly blaring jukebox. The nail in the coffin was, of course, when the twinkling fairy lights overhead dimmed.

Fuck my life!

I immediately felt Edward tense and shift his weight for a moment, before he tightened his grip on my waist. I left my chin resting gently on his shoulder, while I willed myself into a less wanton state of mind, when he turned his head and spoke; his lips almost grazing the ignited skin of my neck, "You going to tell me what's bothering you, Miss Swan?" His words were slowed slightly, and his breath was accompanied by the musty smell of beer.

"You going to stop bothering me, Mr. Cullen?" I murmured against his shoulder.

"Mmmm, nup," he replied lightly, and as his breath washed out over me, I closed my eyes, picturing the smile I knew was encroaching his features.

Sighing reluctantly, I pulled back to look at him. My mind had not done that smile of his justice; though, I suspected that was for the self-preservation of my knickers.

"Well then, I don't know what to say," I said simply, before I smiled up at him affectionately, because slightly drunk Edward was my Friday night best friend long before I fell in love with him, and it was a natural reaction.

He pouted, before that charming smile of his quickly returned. "Okay, I'll see if I can guess."

"Kay."

He glanced away, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in contemplation and the carnal energy romping through my veins suddenly intensified. He was so god damned beautiful that I wanted to whisper it in his ear—then suck on his earlobe.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I quickly forced back Celeste.

He turned back to me, his lips twitching. "You broke a finger nail?"

I threw him a wry grin and nudged him playfully. I nudged him playfully with my hips—straight into his groin, and I honestly wasn't sure whether it was inadvertent, subconscious, or the Red Sea parting prostitute, Celeste.

His eyes closed for a moment, his forehead puckering, as a husky sounding groan hummed softly from his throat. It elicited such a raging fire of lust to course through me that it quickly manifested itself as emotion. Emotion because this man before me meant the world to me, and I was going to lose him, and I'd never experience the pleasure of being able to act upon the desire he brought out in me. Or, maybe it was just because the damn melancholic music that was continuing to play over the jukebox was making me want to cry, but just then, and for the first time in my life, I truly felt like my heart was breaking.

Michael Bolton was sounding typically suicidal in his quest to overcome his lost love that I suddenly wanted to shout out—like a complete lunatic, "I don't know how you're going to live without her—just shut the fuck up, already!"

Naturally, I didn't. Celeste would never allow me to make an idiot of myself in the event that it would be detrimental to her chances of getting some action. So instead, and without thinking, I leaned into Edward again, resting my forehead against his shoulder, just as the first sob shuddered out from me.

Edward immediately stopped to a standstill.

"Hey?" he whispered. His voice was a mixture of tenderness and concern, and spoken over the whiney, depressing music, it only made the tears flow more freely. "Bella . . . ?"

Releasing my hand, he enfolded me completely against him, before he tentatively led us off the dance floor. I only clung to him as my legs moved clumsily with his, until he held me tighter in his arms; taking most of my weight.

Try as I might I couldn't put a stop to the hot, salty tears from spilling down my cheeks—which was pathetic considering I usually wasn't much of a wimp. But they'd completely overtaken me and I was drowning in them.

I concentrated desperately on anything but the pain clenching in my chest in an attempt to get myself under some kind of control. I focused on the sound of his footsteps as they stepped from concrete to sodden earth; the sound of air drawing and expelling from his lungs, and the steady beat of his heart behind them. But none of it could mask what was stemming the tears; the heartache of being so close to him, yet knowing in reality, we were worlds apart. Knowing soon I'd have to say goodbye.

So I just surrendered to them.

We'd stopped walking and Edward tentatively guided me down on a garden bench that I quickly realized was at the very rear of the yard, and away from the crowds of the party. I clumsily wiped my face dry, then glanced around me, taking large lungful's of fresh air, hoping it would snap some sense into me. I hated being so damn pathetic!

Edward took both my hands gently in his, and I turned to him; he was sitting beside me angled so that he was facing me.

"Talk to me, Bella," he said softly his eyes canvassing mine, his brows furrowing deeply, before he squeezed my hands gently in encouragement.

I shook my head, partly to free myself from the emotion that was controlling me, and partly in response to him. Because I didn't know what to say, and I was embarrassed that I'd allowed myself to lose the plot on such a grand scale.

Taking a weary breath, I shrugged my shoulders. "I'll be Okay."

He sighed, his alcohol fused breath washing over me and bringing goose bumps to the surface of my skin. I shivered; though, it could have been Celeste vibrating.

"Bella, I know this has something to do with Jake." He inched closer to me, until our knees brushed lightly together.

"How do you know?" I asked him, breaking contact with his eyes. The intensity in them was unnerving me.

"Because when you're upset, he's _always_ behind it—so, what did he do to you now?"

I inhaled ready to scoff, a sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue, but it died instantly as he reached over and wiped a strand of my hair delicately behind my shoulder. His touch was like a shooting star shining bright for a fleeting moment before leaving darkness in its wake. And because I was already campaigning for pity party of the century, it wasn't surprising when my eyes welled pitifully with fresh tears. It also didn't help that he was looking at me with that tender, empathetic smile on his lips.

"It's not him this time, Edward. It's me," I admitted, looking down, the tone of my voice rising with frustration. Pulling my hands from the warmth of his, I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, rubbing them roughly. "Look at me," I added bitterly. "I'm pitiful!"

Again, he took my hands in his, as if preventing me from further assaults against myself, and when I looked up at him, his smile was pulling crookedly into amusement. "You're not pitiful, Bella."

I huffed, my face clouding darkly. "You're always laughing at me!" I accused him, my frustration peaking.

"I'm not laughing at you," he insisted, his tone deep and earnest, only that charming grin on his face immediately contradicted him—and he knew it. "It's just . . . you're so damned adorable sometimes."

Hello!

I only stared at him, my mind erased instantly of cognitive thought, while my mouth fell agape; somewhere down near my self-sabotaging knickers. I sucked in my bottom lip to make sure I still had control over it, before clearing my throat to speak—only I had no words.

He thinks I'm adorable?

Exactly two seconds later, my voice returned, but was compromised again by tears that were now on a free fall trajectory down my face. "You can't say that to me, Edward."

He leaned closer, enveloping me in the warmth of his body heat, before reaching up to gently wipe away my tears with the back of his fingers. "Why not? It's true," he replied softly.

I closed my eyes and with the tears continuing to slip beneath my lashes, I leaned my head on his shoulder. "Why is it, Edward," I began, my voice more of a mess than the tears should have allowed for, "that you find me adorable, but my boyfriend doesn't?"

And why is it that I'd just asked him that question?

He wrapped his arm around my waist securely, before I felt his lips press gently against the top of my head, and his breath wash heavily over me as he expelled it into a deep sigh. "Because, your boyfriend is a _dickhead_."

There was a definite hard edge to his tone that surprised me. I pushed myself from his chest, then stubbornly wiped my tears away, before meeting his gaze, squarely. His eyes were dark, burning with what looked like a storm of emotions, while there was a trace of vulnerability puckering in his brow.

"Edward, why don't you have a girlfriend?" I asked him gently, honestly.

Because, why _didn't_ he?

He broke into that grin, all askew and boyish, before he looked down for a moment, then locked his gaze with mine. "It's a bit hard to find one when I spend my weekends with a gorgeous brunette."

My heart really began hammering, echoing through me and causing my breath to go shallow. Yet I only stared at him, watching that vulnerability deepen in his eyes as he held my gaze.

Eventually, I raised my hand and cupped it softly to his cheek. "Do I get in the way?" I whispered.

He removed my hand from his face, bringing it to his lips and quickly shook his head. "No, I actually prefer to just hang with you—and Jake," he stammered and his brow etched slightly again.

I felt myself going tense and bit down on my lower lip, until I was positive it would bleed, to stop myself from doing anything impulsive. Edward's expression had completely fallen; he looked lost almost, and it brought out an almost irresistible urge to kiss him.

Something Celeste was rabidly cheering on.

I didn't kiss him; instead, I blurted out possibly the stupidest thing I'd ever said to him, "Edward, are you . . . _gay_?"

He immediately pulled himself to his feet, in one angry movement, and when he turned to glower at me, it was obvious that he wasn't only offended by my question; he was hurt. " _What_?! No, I'm not _gay_!"

"I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, immediately remorseful, jumping to my feet alongside him. "I-I don't really know why that came out of my mouth. . ." I let my words trail off, because I honestly didn't.

He huffed, his face remaining clouded. "Why would you think I'm _gay_ , Bella?"

I didn't really think he was, but there were a lot of question marks that an outsider might consider. So, I put them to him, all the while my eyes pleading with him to forgive me. "You've had one girlfriend in four years and you hang out with me and—" I broke off abruptly. It was the opposite of what I'd meant to say, and I was digging myself a grave with every word I spoke.

And Edward definitely understood my meaning as well. He scoffed out a sarcastic half laugh, and answered with a lowered, angry tone, "Because I haven't _fucked_ my best friend's girlfriend, you think I'm gay."

Oh god. . .

I shook my head adamantly, trying to gather my thoughts into some form of coherency to better explain myself. I knew what I'd said was completely unintentional, but it came out sounding incredibly conceited. He'd never made a move on me; therefore, I thought he was gay?

The thought of it made me cringe.

Inadvertently, what I really wanted to know was if he felt the same way I felt about him—without having to ask him outright. I had no idea why I'd breached the sexuality question when I'd never contemplated the possibility of it before.

"You think I have no self-control, Bella?" By this point he was genuinely pissed off.

I couldn't blame him, really. What did it say about me—that I judged our friendship on his sexuality?

I took a drawn out breath and dropped my gaze from his, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm sorry, Edward. I don't think you're gay at all. It wasn't what I meant to say."

He exhaled deeply and from his shadow cast on the ground, I watched as he dragged his hand back through his hair. "What _did_ you mean to say then?" he asked, his tone losing some of its edge.

I shook my head, knowing there was absolutely no way in the universe that I could tell him, so I improvised, "I don't know. I guess I was wondering why someone as amazing as you hasn't been snapped up yet."

Okay—that was not what I'd meant to say, either.

I groaned loudly beneath my breath, fighting it from becoming audible, and almost didn't hear the quick, amused sounding scoff that he made.

Note to self: never try to have a heartfelt conversation with the man I was secretly in love with, after several glasses of cheap wine.

"Just ignore me," I muttered, slowly raising my eyes sheepishly to meet his. "I'm sorry."

He slung his arm back over my shoulder and pulled me back against his side. It was a gesture based entirely on friendship, and I was well aware of it. I'd killed all his former tenderness with my utter stupidity.

"The question isn't whether I'm gay, Bella, it's what's going on with you." His voice was warm, but guarded.

Fuck, I'd really offended him, and my panic over it quickly manifested itself as frustration.

"Edward, are you going to hold a grudge against me? I said I didn't _mean_ it!" I jerked my shoulder, shoving his arm from around me; he let it fall to his side without resistance.

I was screwing it up so badly I wanted to cry again, and unless I found something to smack my forehead into, I knew I undoubtedly would. I closed my eyes and rubbed my brow with my fingertips, in an effort to keep myself in control. I was flustered and unsure of myself—as well as him—and it was slowly picking me apart.

"Do you want to tell me what's got you riled up, Bella, or do you want to eat?" I knew I was definitely pushing him away by the flat tone of his voice.

I had no fucking idea what I was doing, or what I was supposed to say or feel. I felt completely lost and disorientated.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I mumbled again, fearing I was about to lose to the welling tears again—pathetically!

He exhaled forcefully in a good natured, frustrated kind of way, before bending down to me. His hot, beer scented breath washed over my ear—immediately sounding Celeste's beacon. "Apologize one more time and you _will_ be," he teased me.

Struggling with my _distraction-slash-agitation_ , I eventually admitted, without emotion, "I broke up with Jake today."

He paused, his eyes turning dark as he contemplated it. However, the longer he gauged me the more his expression became a cynical smirk, until his reply reflected it. He snorted, completely dismissing me. "Yeah, okay—how long for this time?"

Okay he had a point. Jake and I had broken up so many times in the past that I'd lost count, but I still couldn't contain my anger that, this time, was very real. "What did you think was going to happen with Jake and me, Edward? That we'd end up getting married, then you and I would hang out baking cookies and raising my babies, while Jake continues screwing half the country?"

This appeared to surprise him, so much so that he seemed to blurt the next words out without making a conscious decision to do so. "You know about that?"

I scoffed dryly. "Of course I know. Seems you do too."

His mouth fell open and he blinked several times before severing his gaze from mine, suddenly looking incredibly uncomfortable—and guilty.

He'd validated what I already knew, anyway.

"Bella . . . I. . ." he left it unspoken before reaching up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes everywhere but on me.

I shook my head lightly. "Edward, it's okay. I realize what a position it put you in. I don't blame you or anything . . . for not telling me. I pretty much knew all along, anyway."

When his eyes met mine again, a deeply furrowing brow accompanied them. He was confused. "Why . . . did you stay with him for—i-if you knew?"

I shrugged my shoulders with feigned indifference. I wanted to scream it out that he was the reason why, that he meant the world and back to me—one hundred times more than Jake ever did. But that was exactly what I couldn't say. He himself had used the term, ' _my best friend's girlfriend'_ , and it had spoken volumes.

"I don't know . . . denial? Plus, I didn't want to have to let . . . everything else go, as well," I mumbled, dropping my gaze from him. It wasn't exactly a lie, and I felt suddenly exposed.

"Everything else?" he prompted me after a moment of silence.

I shrugged again, as if it meant nothing to me, instead of the complete opposite. "We had a lot of good times, you, me . . . and Jake."

His lips twitched upwards a fraction before he smiled fully to himself. "That we did," he admitted.

"I'm gonna miss it," I whispered, feeling the suffocating pressure of tears again and wanting to stamp my feet impatiently at myself.

He had his head bowed, sucking on the inside of his cheeks, seemingly in thought. Eventually he nodded and when he looked up his eyes were burning, serious.

"Bella—" he began, but I interjected not willing to risk the conversation bridging the topic of where this now left him and me.

I just needed one more night.

"Let's get something to eat. If I keep drinking on an empty stomach things will get ugly." I attempted to keep my tone light as I took his hand playfully in mine and pulled him back toward the party, but it was all a charade. I had to forcibly keep the emotion out of my voice and the tears from breaking free.

I guess, I really was in love, because never in my life had I ever felt so pitiful.

Edward didn't seem so willing to hang out with me for dinner, so I suggested he go hang with the boys, and I found my way to Rose. She was chatting with Emmett in between nibbling on her food, but the moment I sat beside her, her attention immediately zeroed in on me.

"You look all weepy. Did you tell him? What happened?"

I tensed, knowing Emmett was all ears beside her, and clearing my throat, I shifted my eyes in his direction discreetly, conveying my concern.

She rolled hers over exaggeratingly. "I can tell you now that Emmett really doesn't give a shit."

The scent her breath was shrouded in quickly told me that she was drunk. It was always tricky to tell with Rose, because she never lost her composure.

"I don't? About what?" Emmett enquired, his eyebrows pulling together with sudden curiosity.

I shook my head to dismiss him when Rose suddenly out-did Alice—and Nanna Slavin—in one go.

"Bella's in love with Edward."

In that drunken moment, she'd revealed the one thing that I'd kept closest to my heart the past two years; the one thing that could truly break me.

I let my head drop into my hands and groaned loudly, and—in my frustration—decided to feign over dramatized sobbing.

"Edward? As in the brother of my soon to be in-law?" I heard Emmett ask with genuine uncertainty.

"How many Edwards do you know, you idiot!?" was Rose's reply, heard barely above the increased volume of my continued drawn out groan.

"Well, did you tell him or not?" And just to add to my torture her voice rose a few decibels.

"No!" I tried yelling at her beneath my breath, but my voice only came out in a strangled whisper.

" _I_ can tell him, Bella," Emmett offered sounding completely sincere.

"Oh my god—do it and die!" I threatened him sounding completely flustered in my sudden panic and desperation. "What is this, _tenth grade_?"

"Nope, it's like sand through the hourglass. . ." Rose smirked like the evil wench she was before she began humming the theme music.

I only glared at her, incredulous and past all patience, before I turned to Emmett. "Rose thinks you're the best fuck she's ever had, and you make her want to whinny like a horse. And if you tell a soul about Edward, I will let it slip _to the entire fucking universe_ that you cry when you come."

I stormed to my feet and headed toward the buffet table with the sound of Rose choking on her food trailing behind me. I only hoped that both of them were too drunk to remember any of it in the morning. Emmett for obvious reasons, and Rose because I genuinely feared her reprisals.

I passed Alice and knew I'd have to avoid her for the rest of the night, because the moment she spotted me she chorused to all around her that I was her future sister in-law. I was actually sure she was about to refer to me as " _Mrs. Cullen"_ , when she suddenly broke off snorting into hysterical laughter. I hurried my step, wanting to stick both my fingers in my ears and start shouting, _'lalalalalala'_ ; instead, I cringed my way to the buffet table and ran into one of the Slavin brothers. I wasn't sure which, they both looked like the same breed of sleazy, garden variety encyclopedia of sex salesmen that entered one's home for the sole purpose of ogling one's rack without apology.

"No, I _do not_ want to accompany you to your car for some extra-curricular activity!" I burst preemptively, gritting my teeth, ready to take out his balls.

"I'm sorry? But, hey, that's not a bad idea, now that you mention it," he drawled, speaking exclusively to my cleavage.

Snatching up a half-empty cup, I promptly and unceremoniously splashed its contents over his crotch.

He let out a girly shriek, and jerkily leaped away from me.

"Oh dear, you seemed to have soiled yourself," I commented loudly, my tone a poorly acted rendition of sympathy, before turning my back on him, huffing loudly.

This is when I found myself staring into Edward's highly amused eyes.

He was chuckling to himself before he took a sip from the beer he was holding. Even as his lips were pressed to the bottle, that all-encompassing grin continued to curve with it. Even after he'd turned his eyes away from me and resumed chatting with the boys, it remained on his face, taunting me— _taunting Celeste!_

So there was nothing left to be done. I got drunk.

* * *

 **A/N: So what are your thoughts? Reckon Edward has the hots for Bella too? Or is he just being a very attentive gentleman?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ahhhh hangovers. Yeah, I've never had one =P  
**

* * *

 **The Friend Zone  
** **Chapter 3**

 **Hangover**

There isn't anything more annoying than people who don't get hangovers; especially, when I probably get their share of them—as well as my own.

As I opened my eyes to a thunderstorm raging inside my head, and a swelling of nausea rising in my stomach, I faintly heard Rose whistling chirpily downstairs. I groaned, my envy quickly subsiding to self-pity.

"Breakfast is up, _Marlena_!" the wench called, sounding like she was on the stairs.

Recoiling instinctively from her tone, I fell out of bed.

"Shut the fuck up—" I attempted to force sound from my hoarse, croaky throat, only to practically gag on the bile tinged taste that was lining the inside of my mouth, while going over backwards from the metal rod—that was my own voice—hammering against my skull. "Oh god," I whimpered pitifully.

Rose opened my door a fraction and peeked in before pushing it open completely. Folding her arms across her chest, she smirked only slightly to herself; the rest of it was for my benefit. "Erm . . . the yellow cab company just called. You owe them sixty-nine ninety-five for—," she broke off for a moment and coughed back her obvious amusement, "the carpet cleaning bill."

I looked up at her from my heaped position on the floor momentarily, a low groan vibrating from my chest as her meaning became clear. "Are you serious?" I asked her weakly, running my hand through my—sticky—hair.

Oh, god, no!

"'Fraid so, sunshine. You hurled all your Edwards on the floor of the cab, and then had us unceremoniously turfed out. Emmett and I had to drag your unconscious ass five blocks home."

"What the hell happened last night?" I asked her in a deliberate whisper, lifting myself sluggishly off the floor and sitting carefully on the side of the bed. I dropped my head in my hands; it felt like a bowling ball.

"Wish I could tell you. My memory got a bit foggy after the cake." She shrugged.

Cake?

"Well, you got further than I did. I remember . . . dinner and. . ." I scrunched up my brow in an endeavor to recall more, but the action only caused a shoot of pain to spasm behind my closed eyes. I massaged my forehead slowly with the tips of my fingers and uttered a pathetic sounding moan.

"You hung with Edward for the most part. . ." her voice intentionally trailed off in emphasis.

My fingers froze over my skin and I looked up at her, cringing away from whatever horrifying reality I'd created for myself. "Rose, stop being a cow. Whatever it is, just tell me."

"I didn't see anything, and I'm assuming Alice didn't either, but. . ." she fought the obvious urge to grin, deliberately prolonging this torture over me.

I closed my eyes, trying to muster up some annoyance over my hangover. " _But?"_

"Mrs. Cullen _definitely_ saw something."

"Saw what?" I uttered despite the fact that my heart had staggered to a halt.

"She rang not long after Yellow Cab. She wanted to know if we'd had a good time and if we'd got home okay," she paused, pointedly clearing her throat, before continuing—and just in time before I ripped the wench's hair out. "She then asked how long you and Edward had been a couple for."

"What?" My breath caught as a huge swell of dizziness over took me. "What did—oh fuck, what did I do?"

"Apparently, at some point during the evening, you and Eddie crossed that friendship boundary of yours and locked lips. It might have been alcohol induced but"—she scoffed—"who's judging."

Could she be any more amused at my expense?

I felt the color drain from my face, while—I shamelessly had to admit—I allowed Celeste to emerge for an internal booty dance.

Nausea, skin tingling and raging, lustful desire really wasn't a good combination. I didn't know whether I wanted to puke or have a cold shower—with Edward!

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

"H-how did it happen?" I faltered, swallowing past the rising bile and grimacing—while wanting to nose dive for my vibrator.

Oh, God.

Just the thought that my lips had touched Edward's made my skin suddenly hum with salacious energy, while my static blood burst to life through my veins.

Celeste had won out, but holy hell, did I feel sick!

"Don't know, sweetie, but if someone caught it on tape, we could send it in to Fox and see about getting a pilot."

My carnal thoughts were immediately sucked back into the present moment of vertigo and vomit scented hair. "Ad nauseam, bitch-face," I grumbled at her.

Standing up, I walked with half drunken, unstable legs towards the door to the bathroom. I blocked out Rose's chuckling, hearing only the echoed sound of my heart as it silently conveyed both my absolute mortification and whorish elation.

Whether I was going to throw up or take a shower, I wasn't sure.

 **. . .**

I was recuperating on the sofa around midday, a mess of blazing primal urges and seediness, when Alice came to _celebrate_.

Her squealing was practically the end of me.

She was another annoying person who didn't appear to feel the long-term effects of alcohol consumption.

She pounced next to me, making me jolt and my stomach roll, her expression manic with puzzled amazement. "Bells—I can't believe I missed it!"

"That makes two of us," I mumbled behind the safety of the throw cushion that I'd grabbed in anticipation of her entrance—and just in time for the whirring of the blender.

Rose was in the kitchen concocting a hangover remedy for me, and getting far too much enjoyment out of grinding it all together for longer than I was sure was necessary. It felt like a jackhammer on my brain.

With a sigh of relief, it stopped a moment later and Rose returned to the living room carrying a glass of orange gunk that made me shudder at the idea of drinking. "After three years of being shipwrecked on a deserted island, Marlena has returned with no memory and a new identity after ground breaking facial surgery."

I threw the cushion at her.

She chuckled and sat on the other side of me, placing the glass in my hand. "Here, drink up, Mrs. Brady."

I took an apprehensive sip, discovering it was little more than vegetable juice with a raw egg added, before I turned to Alice.

"Did Jazz see anything?" I breached her, hopeful.

She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. "I grilled him all morning, but he said all he had seen were the two of you dancing. Though, he did say that Edward was acting funny all night."

I took a frustrated breath, my fingers subconsciously touching my lips, as I searched my brain for something—anything—that would spark a memory. All I recalled was the Slavin brothers, and Edward, looking so beyond ridiculously fuckable that I'd wanted to cry—while Celeste unhooked my bra.

I had literally woken up with it hanging down my arms, but in reality, I could probably chalk that one up to Emmett while I was passed out drunk. The guy would think nothing of a quick feel-up of the roommate of his fuck buddy if the situation was presented.

"Bells, I don't know what you're waiting for. Tell him how you feel. It's so blatantly obvious that he's nuts about you," Alice mumbled becoming distracted as she flipped through channels on the remote control. "Oh—90210!"

"Haven't I already explained—in detail—why I can't?" I replied, deciding whether I should add my impatience to it, while my celestial former self was causing my blood to climax to the pores of my skin at the mere idea that Edward had feelings for me.

I didn't believe it, anyway. From what I remembered of the night before, Edward had made it clear where we stood. I was his best bud's girlfriend—I was off limits. He would not break that rule to the detriment of his friendship with Jake.

I was stuck in _the friend zone._

This was the penalty of orgasming your way through four years on the back of a barbarian who liked to watch his butt cheeks clench in the mirror with each thrust during sex. What the hell did I expect?

"So, is Brandon Edward, or is Dylan?" Alice inquired, quirking her head in Rose's direction. "I can't decide."

"I'd say Jake is Dylan—easy on the eye, but not too bright," Rose answered, with a deadpan expression that was quickly betraying the length of her amusement.

My patience expired explosively. "Am I supposed to be Brenda in this scenario—mother fuck!" The Tourette's kicked in, as my head reacted to the pitch of my tone impulsively; threatening whiplash.

Cradling my head in my hand, I took a measured breath and counted inwardly to ten.

"No, Marlena, you're Kellie Taylor. If you were Brenda you'd be lusting after your brother." Rose scoffed, as if it went without saying.

Alice on the other side of me snorted out a burst of laughter, and because the bitch couldn't utter anything in a tone below a high range octave, it caused me to jolt from the further torture it afflicted on my head.

I was ready to spew forth my reaction by the way of obscenities, when Rose slung her arm around me. "Bells, you know we love you, right?" I jerked my shoulders in irritation—more annoyed at my persistent hangover than I was at her—when she took a collected breath and added, "By the way, when you were in the shower Edward rang. He wants to know if you're okay to drive or if he should come and get you."

Celeste answered on my behalf; I was left rendered to a state of cryonics.

 **. . .**

Alice insisted on driving me. In retrospect it was probably for the best; Celeste was my only coherent faculty, and was presently throwing a swinger's orgy with my stomach. Driving might have proven suicidal.

She dropped me off, allowing me to exit the car only after releasing me from her stranglehold of enthusiasm. Ironically, I was grateful. I needed the time to pull myself together while I reminded myself that it was Edward. We'd hung out for over a year, just the two of us, and despite spending most of my time in his presence, consumed by carnal thoughts, I'd always managed to stay at ease around him.

It didn't need to change just because I may or may not have had his tongue in my mouth.

But it _was_ going to change, I hastily reminded myself. I was no longer his best friend's girlfriend, and whether I was comfortable in his presence or not was irrelevant; our time as _buddies_ was up.

No more movie nights, no more games of ten pin; no more snuggling against him as I whored myself into denial over the word _'platonic'_ and its significance.

No more Edward Cullen.

As I walked up the stairs to his apartment, my heart slowed and my hangover—that had temporarily gone into remission—snapped back into place like elastic.

I wouldn't let myself foster any fantasies that Edward had invited me over to confess his true, undying love. If I had any chance of moving beyond this and learning anything from it, then I had to keep my mind focused on the cold, hard—brutal—facts.

Edward did not feel the same way, and if by some miracle he did, I had no right to come between him and Jake. He would resent me for it if I did!

No matter how I looked at it, the conclusion was always the same; the idea of Edward and me was little more than a wanton delusion.

You'd have thought it'd be enough to sober me up—or tame Celeste into submission.

It did neither.

When Edward opened the door, his smile had not changed; it was broad, askew and hinting with amused affection—making me wonder what I'd been expecting.

"I-I'm sorry," I blurted out as my face burned brazenly, but I still couldn't decide if I was more mortified that I'd kissed him than I was unrepentant.

He held my gaze comfortably, his grin peaking before he half rolled his eyes. "Get in here." The tenor of his voice was slightly gravelly as he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door. Or maybe he sounded completely normal and I was hanging on to the last shred of hope knowing the heart break I was meant to feel over my boyfriend, the night before, was about to become a reality with Edward.

I stumbled forward, finding myself against him, with my lips pressing against the little indent in his skin where his collar bones met, as he pulled me in for a brief, warm hug.

"You're sporting a nice shade of green, Bella," he said with a small, soft laugh, after he'd released me. His eyes shone with the same familiar affection, but there was something very guarded about his expression.

I only nodded, shrugging one of my shoulders, and offered up a half-hearted smile in resignation.

"You sent me a text last night at about 3am," he explained, chuckling again to himself.

My heart stalled in a moment of dread, my mouth falling slightly agape. "Oh, god, what did I say?" I muttered, as I reached up and massaged my prickling brow.

A small smile remained curved on his lips, as he retrieved his phone, clicked his messages open and showed me the result of my early morning drunken confessions.

 **I puked in my hair, but I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!**

I groaned, only semi beneath my breath and he laughed again; the timbre of it making Celeste stir.

There it was in black and white; I'd confessed my soul to him, but it didn't make an ounce of difference, because he was very obviously taking it as an exaggerated display of my platonic affections.

Platonic; there was that word again. And the one word that could slap a gag order on Celeste at the mere thought of it.

Fuck my life.

I'd been thinking that a lot lately, and for a little while " _FML_ " had become my regular Facebook status. I used to enjoy the look of self-pity in words, until the day Jake replied with: **a bit hard when you aren't doing any fucking lately.**

The asshole obviously forgot the fact that my father was also added as one of my friends, and who'd consequently posted in reply: **Thessalonians 4:3 - For this is the will of God, [even] your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication.**

And within a few hours the entire membership of the Ladies Auxiliary Club, and the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club had all liked his comment.

To date, it still has the most _likes_ on my Facebook—one of my many social media low points, and another source of great amusement for Rose.

Edward nudged me, snapping me from my present course of _agitation_.

"I thought we were going to wait till tonight to get drunk—at least, then I can hold your hair back." He grinned broadly, and rubbed his chin, obviously again finding great amusement at my expense.

Yeah I remember; he found me funny because I was adorable—adorable like a puppy. Man's best friend—man's best friend's girlfriend!

FML _._

"Funny, Edward," I grumbled and scoffed out the equivalent of pissed off sarcasm.

His brow pulled together and his expression piqued with concern. "Are you pissed at me, Bella?"

This surprised me, and I looked up and met his gaze squarely. He appeared genuinely remorseful, his eyes darkening with it beneath his bridged forehead.

Did he have any idea how beautiful he was? Even with slightly bloodshot eyes and excess stubble. I had the almost irresistible urge to jump him, but then it was best I didn't cock-tease Celeste by entertaining such thoughts.

"Why would I be pissed off at you, Edward?" I asked him sincerely with entirely too much emotion behind my words. I quickly changed course, knowing I was about to end up in a pitiful state and attach myself to his leg. "You're my best friend and the only guy that never saw me as just a pussy with legs."

Of course this brought an immediate grin to his face as he quirked a teasing, dubious eyebrow. "Pussy?"

I rolled my eyes, already feeling myself relaxing as my smile pulled wide. This was Edward. Goofy, dependable, adorable Edward. My weekend buddy. Always there. . .

Fuck!

"Who says I don't look at you like that, anyway?"

I couldn't decipher his meaning. Was he serious? Teasing? Flirting?

My cynical side answered while I pondered, "Oh my God, Edward—I _don't_ think you're gay!"

He chuckled, snorting it shortly as he exhaled. "I'm kidding, but I meant. . ." he broke eye contact for a moment as his hand ran to the back of his head, "I meant about last night."

It was so pleasant to see the reaction he had to my kissing him. He looked like he was suffering from an acute case of _walked-into-a-spider's-web_.

I sighed, feeling my face deepen as my self-esteem plummeted, while Celeste went AWOL. "I was told I kissed you, Edward. I'm sorry. I don't remember any of it."

His eyes met and locked with mine, while something flickered behind them. "You didn't kiss me, Bella. I kissed you," he admitted. His tone was vulnerable—raw, and as his eyes continued to canvass mine they began to magnify with it.

Celeste came gate crashing back, and began slapping me from my stupor. I think I blinked a couple of times and sucked in my bottom lip. I wasn't sure if it was a subconscious, carnal mannerism or I was checking to see if my jaw was still attached to my face.

"Y-you did?" I asked, becoming confused by the increasing look of uncertainty in his expression.

He began rubbing the back of his head again, his forehead knotting with what I could only describe as concentrated amounts of discomfort. "Yeah—I mean, I wasn't taking advantage of you, or anything, Bella," he explained in a rush, "but you—you were obviously needing the contact. You were upset and you wouldn't let me g—"

Oh, hell no!

"You _pity kissed_ me!?" I interjected, my voice rising high with indignation.

"No—it wasn't like that!" he insisted, his eyes wide and earnest. He dropped his head again and continued to rub the nape of his neck, running his fingers into his hair. "I was kinda drunk as well."

"Oh, so you _drunken_ pity kissed me!" I folded my arms and scoffed out my resentment, scowling at him.

I wasn't pissed at him; I was more pissed at the irony. Edward kissed me because he thought I was rebounding from Jake.

I further snorted in disgust, which of course, Edward took as my reaction to kissing me in the first place.

His face colored, his eyes flickering away from mine awkwardly.

But naturally I couldn't tell him that a huge part of me was overjoyed at the fact that he'd kissed me, even if it was out of pity—or even if I couldn't remember. Just knowing it had taken place was enough.

Exhaling deeply, I turned to sit down on his couch. With all the excitement—and anti-climaxes that promptly followed—my heart felt like it was about to short circuit, and I was beginning to feel light headed. Plus, I had to gather the strength and resolve I'd need to break up with him.

Dropping my head in my hands, I took another hopelessly drawn out breath.

He came and sat beside me, placing his hand on my knee and squeezing it gently. "I'm really sorry, Bella—it just . . . kind of happened."

I looked up at him; his eyes were gauging mine with so much intensity, I began to feel exposed. Yet, at the same time, they were darkening and seemed . . . troubled.

I grabbed his hand in mine and flashed him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm not upset that you kissed me, Edward." I looked down at his large, masculine hand in mine and felt the prickle of tears forming behind my eyes. Sniffing them back impatiently, I scoffed beneath my breath at how pitiful I was.

"What is it, Bella?" he prompted me, the tone of his voice dropping, squeezing my hand this time.

I looked up at him, not caring that my excess emotion would be misconstrued. He'd simply assume I was mourning Jake. "I'm going to miss you."

"Where are you going?" he was teasing me, yet his eyes, as they held mine, were burning. He took a rushed breath and nodded, reaching up to rub his forehead roughly with the heel of his palm. "I know—I know what you mean."

Well, that was . . . _easy_.

I sighed, letting my shoulders slump miserably. Did I expect him to challenge me? Fight for me?

"Let's go out tonight—one last time." He attempted to pull me closer to him, but I stiffened, refusing to budge.

"No, I can't," I whispered.

"Do you have plans?"

I only shook my head in answer.

He inhaled sharply, his hand in mine tensing. "Bella, I've spent every Saturday night with you for the last twelve months. One more isn't going to hurt." He sounded frustrated.

I raised my head and glared at him defiantly. "You kept me distracted while Jake fucked half of Washington!"

He reacted like I'd slapped him. Yanking his hand free from mine, he pulled himself to his feet.

"Well that's fucking nice isn't it, Bella! Is that all you saw me as—an extension of Jake?" He stared down at me, his expression hard, but the seriousness behind his eyes had remained steadfast.

I lunged to my feet defensively. "What you were was my consolation—and I was yours"— _liar_ , Celeste raged at me—"I can't do it anymore, Edward, and I don't want to!" I yelled in response, my voice wavering; threatening to break and unleash more tears on me that would immediately contradict me.

Biting down on my lip stubbornly, I continued to hold his gaze; his gaze that was now shining with undisguised pain.

I'd hurt him. Just as I'd intended.

He severed eye contact, his brow bunching deeply, before he looked down and placed his hands on his hips. "I didn't want you to be my _consolation_. I just wanted to talk to you about something." There was a sharp edge to his words, but otherwise his tone validated how much I'd upset him.

Did I want to sever ties with him hating me? With him thinking that he didn't mean anything more to me than Jake's best friend?

The very idea of it seemed like blasphemy, but even if I denied it, it would still be a lie.

I was in love with him, completely and painfully in love with him. Without that one piece of the puzzle, everything else was irrelevant. I'd spent so much time with him because I'd fallen in love with him; I allowed our friendship to become so close because I was in love with him; and I'd allowed him to believe a lie because I was in love with him.

Our friendship was a lie; Edward was only seeing one version of the truth. I never wanted to be friends with him. In the beginning I wanted only Jake and in the end it had changed to Edward.

I had never stopped being Celeste, because I never wanted friendship from either of them.

Without a word I turned to leave, but I couldn't take a single step away from him; my limbs were frozen. I stood with my back to him, fighting the tears with every breath that I took. If I broke down and admitted even half of what I felt for him, it would just make it a whole lot worse to walk away. And it wouldn't make any difference, because what we had _was_ connected to Jake, and like that farce of a relationship, this too had to end.

"I'm leaving with Jake, Bella. To Seattle. Realistically, I probably won't ever see you again after I've gone, and I-I just wanted to properly say goodbye." His tone was soft and almost devoid of emotion—until he'd spoken that last word.

I took a shuddering breath in that immediately hitched; my heart completely seizing in my chest.

 _He's leaving?_

I placed my palm over my clenching heart; it was breaking beneath it.

 _He's leaving._

"You might have seen me as just a part of your relationship with Jake, Bella, but I didn't. You meant . . . a lot more to me. . ."

 _He's leaving . . . with Jake._

And that was pretty much the nail in the coffin.

I could have spared myself the agony of this moment, because Edward had already planned on doing it for me.

"You said goodbye last night, when you kissed me," I answered in a barely controlled whisper and without turning around to face him.

And with that said, I forced my legs forward and fled from his apartment.

I raced down the stairs with tears blurring my vision; stumbling and almost killing myself on the last step. After I was sent sprawling through the main entrance doors to the apartment building, I was soon presented with another problem.

My car wasn't in the lot, because I'd completely forgotten that Alice had driven me.

I snorted humorlessly and zipped open my bag furiously, searching for my phone.

Not there.

"Fucking—dammit!" I burst, practically yelling out my frustration and stamping the ground in a fit of rage.

I was pissed off—so pissed off that I wanted to punch something until my knuckles bled, but I could already feel it rapidly fading. Celeste was MIA, well ahead of me, and what I was left with, what I could feel advancing on me with each beat of my heart, was pure, heart wrenching anguish.

I, Bella Swan, liar and best friend stealing whore, was heartbroken.

And I had a feeling heartbreak and me were going to become _very_ , intimately acquainted with each other.

Well, no time like the present, they say.

Bowing my head into my hands, I sobbed wretchedly. It was genuinely pitiful, complete with snot, slobber and sharp, shuddering breaths, but I was at the complete mercy to it.

 **. . .**

After getting myself under some kind of control, I set out for the hour, or so, it would take me to walk home. However, I didn't get more than half a mile down the road when a car skidded to a stop beside me.

I looked over in surprise, and found myself once again staring into Edward's unfathomable gaze.

"Bella, what are you doing—are you going to walk all the way home? Get in the car!" he demanded, sounding exasperated, reefing his hand back through his hair.

"I'm fine! I think I'll take a rain check on the pity, if that's okay," I retorted, but only sounded meek and weary, as opposed to self-assured like I was hoping to.

I turned away from him, hearing him huff, before the sound of his car door slamming. In the next instant he was standing before me.

"Bella, I'm not going to let you walk home, so just get in the car." He sighed.

"Fuck you, Edward—I'm walking!" I made to shove past him, but he grabbed my hands, holding them firmly in his.

"I get it—okay! You're pissed at Jake, so you're pissed at me. That's fine—just get in the fucking car!" His voice rose, he was angry—he was frustrated—and there was something about his expression that made my stomach squirm and my heart quicken.

Oh my god, even now I was spontaneously mind fucking him—the two of us having angry sex.

Did I have any self-respect?

I felt the brazen hue immediately lodge in my cheeks. I blinked a couple of times, pulling up short, before—in a moment of fluster—my logic went off the rails and I threw a tantrum. "Fuck Jake and fuck you and fuck this shit! Fuck—dammit, I hate—"

And then, taking me completely by surprise and instantly silencing my hissy fit, he promptly lifted me off the ground and threw me over his shoulder.

 _Hello, Daddy!_

I think that was Celeste's sentiments, but as I was slung over his shoulder clinging to the back of his shirt, in complete shock, I wasn't altogether sure.

He dumped me in the passenger seat, huffing to himself, with a scowl on his face, and while one part of me was indignant that he'd manhandled me, the other—greater, whorish—part of me was so seriously turned on that I had to bite down on my lip to physically restrain myself.

"Bella, seriously—you're acting worse than one of my students!" And before I had the chance to respond, he slammed the door on me and stormed around the front of the car to get back into the driver's side.

Not that I had anything ready to say, even if he had given me the opportunity.

Starting the engine, he pulled his car aggressively into gear, all without turning to look at me.

I only stared at him, while everything I'd said to him in his apartment was wiped from my thoughts. All I could focus on were the muscles in his jaw as they clenched, and the way his eyebrows pushed together in irritation, making him appear suddenly volatile. . .

I tried to shake myself back to the reality that only moments before I'd come to terms with, but my mind wouldn't stop from playing out scenes before me.

Me, climbing on his lap while he was driving, and him slamming on his brakes, before tearing the clothes from my body, and taking me with my back pressing hard against the steering wheel. Feeling his lips run down my neck and over my shoulders, while his large, tender hands cupped and kneaded my breasts—

I cleared my throat; it was a difficult thing to do considering my mouth seemed suddenly parched. My blood was burning through my veins, flooding me in a desire that was ripping my soul to shreds. It pounded in my already ignited cheeks, and tingled to the very surface of my skin.

I was suddenly on fire, and all previous rational thought was completely conquered.

We stopped at a red light and Edward turned to glance at me—only briefly before he turned back to the road. But he'd noticed the state of me, and slowly his eyes returned to mine.

"Bella—what?" He sounded aggravated, but the tone of his voice had softened.

He was one clueless male that was for sure!

"You're not my consolation," I spoke softly—from out of nowhere—considering I hadn't made a conscious decision to say anything of the kind to him.

He released his breath and dipped his head for a moment, before his eyes once again met mine. "I know I'm not. You're not my consolation, either."

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about—moving to Seattle?" I sat up a little in the seat, feeling my arousal quickly giving way to emotion again—but not fully. It was amalgamating together, making me feel like a horny neurotic with a masochistic psychosis.

He released his breath again, scanning our surroundings quickly, before he dropped his hand gently on my knee. "Hold tight for minute."

The few brain cells that I still had functioning after last night knew this wasn't going to end well, but they were presently overshadowed by visions of needy, emotional sex on the hood of his car.

This was despite the fact that he was about to explain to me in further detail that he was leaving.

* * *

 **A/N: if you're new to this fic, let me know your thoughts; if not, I hoped you enjoyed. See you next time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for all the alerts and fave, guys. That's gorge. And remember if I thank you for a fave, it's not my way of guilting you into reviewing ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **Inhibitions.**

Edward drove us to the Gathering Grounds Espresso; a café we'd often visited to put warmth back into us after we'd sat in near freezing temperatures watching Jake surf.

I sat outside on the timber decked porch, while Edward ordered our coffee, with a sense of finality. He had brought me here to tell me he was leaving me—not that he saw it that way, and not that he should, either. He owed me nothing.

It had begun to rain again, making me glad that Edward had picked me up and I wasn't still out walking in it. Though, I was almost tempted to throw another hissy just for the opportunity to be thrown over his shoulder again. My skin was still literally tingling at the memory of it, and I could feel the celestial whore just below the surface, waiting on high alert.

Who was I kidding, Celeste owned me; I don't think I had ever stopped being the crowd parting biblical whore, no matter how much the Quilting Club decrepits prayed for my salvation. But these wantonly physical reactions my body had to Edward—that I was constantly subjected to—was the only release I had at my disposal.

They say the more something is unobtainable, the more attractive it is. Understatement of my whorish life! All Edward had to do was clear his throat in my presence, and I was plummeting into the desperate throes of arousal.

Luckily—at the very least—I had means to combat it.

Rose, being as perceptive as she was when it came to anything of the libidinous nature, had caught on early, and had bought me a vibrator for my last birthday. Though she'd been searching for a reason to buy me one for most of our adult lives. She was always appalled I didn't own one—in the same context as if I didn't own deodorant, mind you. All I can say is thank God; it had been my saving grace. All my pent up frustration was on a knife's edge of imploding in on me, threatening to turn Celeste savage.

Shamefully, it had become my most utilized commodity—to the point that I often suffered from anxiety attacks when I feared it was running low on batteries, and I had none spare.

I wasn't above making a trip to 7/eleven at 3am, in my pajamas and bunny slippers for more.

Prior to my rod of wanton epiphanies, I shuddered to think what I appeared like to the outside world. I know Edward had become concerned—considering the amount of times he commented on my residual red and blotchy cheeks. I'd resorted to telling him I suffered from hives.

The only thing was—and despite my best enterprising methods with Roddy McPleasure on industrial strength—it had begun to fall short. It had barely scratched the surface of my desire for Edward and it didn't even come close to placating it. All it did was make me yearn for him more, crave him more; hunger for him more—

"Are your hives flaring up again, Bella?" Edward asked with a concerned quirk of an eyebrow as he placed a cup of coffee in front of me before taking the seat opposite with his.

My face burned in a moment of fluster. I cleared my throat and hid my face behind my hands—and the hive story; it continued to prickle with heat. "Um . . . yeah, I—probably."

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes dark and contemplative, before they flickered to mine. He offered me an awkward sort of smile, then sighed. "I'm sorry to lumber this on you so soon after. . ." he abandoned the sentence, maybe because I was on the verge of an over the top eye roll.

"Edward, do you see me going fetal over friggin' Jake?" I huffed.

He half shrugged. "Kind of, yeah."

I snorted half beneath my breath behind my cup of nasty tasting coffee. "You have no idea."

"Bella, stop pretending you're fine. It's obvious you're not. You can't avoid it forever, you know." He gazed at me steadily, before he again took a sip of his coffee.

I was feeling irritated. Irritated that Edward was so clueless and blinded by his asshole buddy Jake that he couldn't even fathom the idea for a moment that I might harbor feelings for him. And irritated that I couldn't confess that I had feelings for him _because_ of his asshole buddy Jake.

"Yes, I can, considering the _love of my life_ is moving to Seattle." I meant to sound sarcastic, but the idea of it caused too much emotion to gather in my throat, and it only validated what Edward obviously presumed I was already feeling.

That I was still hopelessly in love with Jake, and I was devastated he was leaving.

The slightly pained expression that ghosted across Edward's face was further proof of it. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I dropped my head into my hands and groaned; it was seeped with frustration, and again, only played directly into Edward's theories.

"Edward!" I burst, but soon let it go.

"Did you ever think about coming with us, Bella. . . ?" he asked delicately, as I massaged the agitated ridges from my brow, clenching my jaw.

I shot my head up and narrowed my eyes, feeling indignant anger flare through me. "I had no knowledge of any of it."

His brow rose in surprise. "You didn't? He's been planning this for months." His voice became hard, before he huffed shortly to himself.

I shook my head, feeling my face burn; though, I didn't have a single reason to be angry over it.

"Nope, he never said a word." I shrugged.

He took a heavy breath and ran his hand roughly through his hair. "What an asshole," he muttered, more or less to himself.

"Edward, Jake owed me nothing." I sighed, completely resigned with the fact that I was defending him.

Oh, the irony.

Edward's brow scrunched up and he gazed at me as though he suspected I had a screw loose. "Are you serious, Bella? You were his _girlfriend_!"

I snorted dryly. "Was I?"

"I just assumed you knew," he mumbled, his expression turning troubled.

"Well, I didn't," I snapped, jerking my shoulders.

He watched me for a moment, while I stubbornly avoided his gaze, trying not to grimace at the taste of the coffee.

Peripherally I could see him debating with himself on what to say; his mouth opened and closed several times, but he discarded it with a heavy sigh.

I turned back to him; his eyes were deep and reflective, his brow heavily creased.

When he finally spoke his voice was dull. "Jake's got a construction job lined up already that will pay him double what he gets now."

"That's fantastic—I'm so happy for him!" I retorted with a petulant amount of sarcasm.

He took a weary sounding breath, but otherwise ignored me. "I've been thinking about leaving for about a year now. I hate Forks—you know I hate living here."

I pulled up, stunned, nodding only as a defense mechanism. He'd been thinking about leaving for a year? The same amount of time I'd been in love with him.

I felt my heart tighten and ache, and I struggled suddenly to swallow past it, before disguising my expression behind my paper cup.

He didn't notice; he was looking into his own coffee, his expression clouding.

Making a sarcastic scoffing sound, he continued, "I teach music appreciation at Forks High to kids who only appreciate Beyonce and Chris Brown, and give piano lessons to elementary school kids on the weekends for twenty bucks an hour—I'm miserable, Bella!" He raked his fingers brashly through his hair; an outward validation of it.

I could relate to his sense of pointlessness. I was a medical receptionist at Bogachiel Clinic that mostly catered for the over fifties. It was common place to be flirted with by men older than my father; to have my rack drooled over, asked my bra size and whether the doctors had _had their leg over_ , multiple times.

It was never my dream to remain in Forks after college. I'd stayed because of my father. He was the only family I had, and at the same time, I didn't want to leave him alone, either. At least, that was before he started seeing Sue Clearwater—head of the Church choir, and organ enthusiast. The reason I'd stayed in Forks after that was to stay near Edward; Edward who was planning on leaving anyway.

I released a wavering breath, and stared down at my coffee, nodding. "I know you are," I condoled softly.

"I know you are, as well, Bella."

I glanced up at him and shrugged helplessly.

"You can come too. . ." He raised his eyebrows, an encouraging smile returning to his face. "My uncle has offered me a job in his club; part manager; part barman; and part jazz musician in the band."

My heart swelled for a moment, and Celeste began her maraca shaking, screaming at me to accept. In fact, the smile had already half formed across my face when it fell. If I went it would leave me in the same position I was in now; only in a different city.

I shook my head reluctantly, watching as Edward's face turned downcast for a moment. "I can't, Edward."

He nodded in resignation. "Yeah. . ."

"Tell me about this club," I spoke up, brightly, completely feigning enthusiasm, but needing a distraction before I succumbed to the threat of more tears. My brow was beginning to ache; I rubbed it stubbornly.

He was watching me, his deep green eyes canvassing me closely. His expression was troubled again; obviously not buying any of it. He cleared his throat to answer. "My uncle wants to go back being a GP—at least, on a part time basis—and needs someone to help run the club. You've heard me mention it before?"

I nodded, answering quietly, "The Eclipse."

He took a sip of his coffee, swallowing loudly and grimacing. "Freaking hell, this coffee is disgusting."

I nodded again. "It always was," I agreed, allowing a faint smile to penetrate my face as I recalled the memories that came with Edward and me at this café.

He smiled in agreement, allowing it to become toothy as he gazed at me.

I took a hasty gulp of my coffee, in attempt to keep Celeste distracted.

He sighed, looking down for a moment, before his gaze met mine with a sudden intensity. "Bella, do you want to go back to my place? It's pouring raining and this is not how I want to do this."

My chest clenched tightly, achingly, and as I tried to swallow past it I felt myself becoming impatient.

"To do _what_?" I demanded, knowing I was being bratty again.

He looked away, assaulting his hair; he seemed just as frustrated. "I understand that now you've broken up with Jake, it makes things weird and awkward with us, but that doesn't change the fact that I've known you for just as long. You became just as ingrained in my life, and because we were friends mutually through Jake doesn't make it any less valid. I can't just walk away, Bella, without—" he broke off, raking his fingers through his hair a second time, his frustration becoming more evident.

My heart began stuttering. He seemed so sincere and impassioned, but I couldn't read him. "I-I don't understand, Edward. What are you trying to say?" I felt like holding my breath, and I was feeling a sense of anticipation.

"Let's go back to my apartment and I'll cook us a crappy dinner and we'll drink a bottle of wine in celebration of our _pseudo-friendship_." His grin turned askew and charming and I knew there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to turn him down; not with Celeste suddenly behaving like a bouncer ready to pounce on anything even remotely suggestive.

I broke into an accepting smile, forcing back my defenses. "Okay," I answered, nodding further in agreement.

One more night. What would it matter? He was leaving; he was going to make it easy on me.

As I stood up from the table he came toward me and slung his arm over my shoulder. "I sure am gonna miss ya, Miss Swan," he said warmly, as he led us back towards his car.

I grabbed his hand that was draped around me and squeezed it. "Yeah, who else is going to kick my ass at ten pin every Saturday night," I replied ruefully, without any usual build-up of emotion that that statement should have caused me.

Celeste was scheming, and I wasn't resisting.

This was the last night I'd ever have with him before he moved to another city. I had to accept the reality that Edward and I were an impossibility, but it didn't mean that I had to come out of it completely empty handed.

Did it?

I glanced up at him; he was biting down on his bottom lip, his expression furrowed. It caused that familiar aching desire to pull deep in the pit of my stomach and spread out rapidly through my veins. I closed my eyes slowly internalizing the breathless moan I could feel building.

What the hell was I thinking? I was allowing myself to be caught up in delusions. Edward had had plenty of opportunities to make a move on me if he'd wanted to, but he never did. We were celebrating our friendship—pseudo only because it came about through Jake—but friendship it still was.

And did I really want to get drunk again and have Edward pity kiss me? Would I knowingly stoop that low?

 _YES_ , Celeste yelled.

She was right; I would.

 **. . .**

The ride back to Edward's apartment was spent in silence, broken only by the awkward sound of his intermittent throat clearing. I knew I was making him uncomfortable, but I needed the time to pull myself together. If I was going to spend one last night as Edward's _friend_ then I had to mentally prepare myself. And that meant keeping my emotions in check, and Celeste properly bound and gagged. It wasn't going to be easy; especially, since I suspected Roddy was on the verge of short circuiting from usage that wasn't covered by the warranty.

Don't ask; I was a desperate woman with unquenchable desires.

I could do it one last time. I'd spent more than a year convincing myself that I felt only friendship for him; what was one more night?

 **. . .**

"So . . . we have mac and cheese or frozen pizza?" Edward offered with a quick grin after he reappeared from behind his refrigerator door.

I broke into a broad grin and half rolled my eyes. "You choose," I replied warmly.

Okay, yes, I'd decided—since I was desperately and pathetically craving the smallest of contact from Edward—I'd go along with the charade, that had shaped my life, for one last night.

At this point, I was prepared to go along with anything than face the inevitable of letting him go for good.

"Frozen pizza it is, then," he decided, reefing out the pizza box that was wedged in his freezer.

After he removed it from the box and put it in the oven, he opened the refrigerator again and grabbed a Brewsky before sticking his head further inside and rummaged around—exposing the band of his underwear, and making me almost physically waver. "I thought I had some wine somewhere, but I guess I don't."

I swallowed thickly. "Oh . . . well, that's okay."

"Do you want a beer?" He popped his head back around to gauge me before his brow puckered in confusion—by my no doubt porn-ridden expression. "You . . . you look a bit green, Bella."

I go green when I'm horny?

I huffed impulsively. This man was completely beautiful, but he had to be the most clueless fucking male on the planet. Even Jake was able to decipher my fuck-me eyes, but to Edward it came off as agitation and nausea!

Completely and utterly carnally dyslexic!

"I'm still . . . hung over!" I answered, my voice tight, and wanting to punch him for his continued oblivion to the desire that I had to fight every waking minute to keep under control. A fight I was rapidly losing since I'd allowed Celeste to take over the reins.

He sucked on his lower lip, and drew his eyebrows together, and I was so far gone that by his logic I should have puked. "I have some Alka-Seltzer?"

"I'll be okay when I have something to eat." I shrugged, turning away from him, not sure if I wanted to attach myself to his leg or start belting him with my purse.

Of course the image quickly popped into my head of option two that quickly evolved into heated kissing against the wall. Immediately my _hives_ turned epidemic and the familiar anxiety I felt over Roddy's battery shelf life began to haunt me. I'd stolen all the batteries from the television remote control the previous month and braved Rose's outrage over missing the first ten minutes of The Game of Thrones while she worked out how to change channels from the television's base.

It wasn't pretty.

Rose can turn homicidal on an impulse; especially, at the prospect of missing some fantasy full frontal.

I groaned; it was audible and probably a little too husky. Celeste had become a master of taking advantage when I was distracted.

I sat myself on Edward's sofa, and he plodded himself beside me a moment later, extending me a Heine. "Talk to me, Bella." He took a gulp of his beer, giving me the impression that he wasn't overly concerned by my _nausea and agitation_.

I took the bottle from him, took a quick sip, and grimaced, groaning as I did. "Is your offer to hold my hair back still on the table?" I asked him, nudging him playfully—and for whatever reason, immediately my face was flooded.

Hives and nausea. I wasn't having a good day.

Edward turned to glance at me, his brow quirked and his smirk half concealed by his Brewski before he took another gulp, shrugging a shoulder. "Sure. I threw up over you once, so I kind of owe you one."

I snorted. "You didn't throw up on me. You were sea sick, and besides, you don't have enough hair to hold back."

It was Edward's twenty-first birthday and his parents paid for a cruise for him around the Seattle harbor. The weather was rough, and Edward had spent the majority of the night in the bathroom. Jake—whom I was at the time idiotically in love with—had sent me to find him. I'd discovered him with his head down the toilet, sporting the most horrible sallow tinge imaginable.

Edward's eyes flickered to mine and held them, burning with warmth. "But you looked after me." He gripped my shoulder, giving me one of those mannish affectionate squeezes.

I'd stayed beside him in the bathroom, chatting to him and trying to make him laugh while my celestial self, at the time, was preoccupying my thoughts with lewd visions of the recent sexual encounters I'd had with Jacob; that I'd further discredited myself by participating in.

My thoughts continued to wander back to that night, over four years ago; to the way Edward's eyes were closed; how his hands had trembled as he gripped the rim of the toilet; and the sheen of sweat that had coated his forehead. And suddenly my chest was swelling with an over protectiveness that began to make me feel emotional.

He had been so sick, and I hadn't really looked after him, because I was too busy having whorish thoughts about Jacob, and our scheduled—to be videoed—night of sex.

I turned to fully face him, watching as the depths of his eyes changed from affection to confusion, before they deepened further.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked me, after I continued to just stare at him, wrestling with the influx that was the gargantuan beast of my feelings for him, while my eyes gradually welled with tears.

"Why did you kiss me last night, Edward?" I asked softly, clearing the emotion from my throat.

His eyes gauged mine for a moment, before he broke into a sad sort of smile—that I suspected was continued pity. "Because you asked me to," was his tender-toned reply, before he reached out and brushed the back of his fingers lightly across my cheek.

Of course I did! No doubt Celeste, the wanton whore, took full advantage and spoke on my intoxicated behalf.

I scoffed, barely beneath my breath, which piqued Edward's curiosity.

"You . . . don't believe me?" His brows rose high on his forehead and that vulnerable, boyish expression began to encompass his face.

I nudged him lightly, smiling sheepishly to myself. "Of course I do. It's just typical of my over-needy, whorish nature."

His brows remained raised but this time his expression edged into a smirk. "Whorish? Bella, please."

"I'm a total whore, Edward. I always was. I just haven't acted upon it yet." I really did blow at the art of seduction. Something that was made further clear by the fact that Edward openly snorted.

"Sure you are, and I'm a cross dresser," he replied after taking a gulp of his beer. He put the bottle on the table and turned back to me, taking my shoulders in each of his palms. "You weren't acting like a whore, Bella. You were upset. I understood that."

Clueless to the point of making it an art form.

"Okay, sure, why not," I drawled out, my tone seeped with sarcasm, before grabbing my beer and leaning back against the sofa.

He reached for his and took another swig, rolling his eyes as he did, before pulling himself to his feet. "Okay, _whiney briney_ , I'm gonna make sure our five star meal isn't burning."

 **. . .**

Edward returned five minutes later with pepperoni pizza and garlic bread. We ate in silence—a casual silence—as Edward flicked through channels on his television. But little by little I began to become immersed in an engulfing panic. This was the last time I'd ever eat dinner with him, and the thought of it put my heart in an iron clad grip.

I observed him as I ate, smiling to myself despite the ache that was beginning to weigh heavily in my chest. I watched the way his brow cricked as he chewed, and the way he sucked in his bottom lip before he took another bite; and the way he coughed the heat of it into his closed fist, realizing that I loved him with every fiber within me. This dorky, beautiful man that only shaved once every three days, and who wore baggy, droopy pants; the man that had a smile that could stop my thoughts dead in their tracks, and a laugh that was so contagious that I often broke into it through tears. Edward, the one I had to let get away because I had signed a contract with the devil, and prostituted myself out with his imbecile for a best friend.

"Fuck my life!" I muttered, inadvertently aloud.

He turned to me with tomato sauce over his face and grinned in an empathetic kind of way. But what he did next sealed my doom; he slung his arm around my neck and planted a sloppy pizza tinged kiss on my cheek. "You're going to be fine, Bella," he promised me, almost nuzzling my skin with his nose.

He turned back to the television screen, while my face burned cold to the surface with a heated desire that suddenly filled me and quickly spread out. I brought my hand to my mouth, pushing my bottom lip between my teeth with my fingers, wanting so desperately to reach out and run them through his hair.

It was at this point that a second voice spoke up within me in opposition to Celeste, warning me that I was approaching dangerous territory. But I wasn't listening; my eyes were zeroed in on him, while the blood coursing hot through my veins felt like a drug, an aphrodisiac, making me feel suddenly and incautiously confident.

"So, you kissed me because I asked you. . . What if I'd asked you to fuck me?"

I think I'd actually stunned Celeste silent, while Edward suddenly began violently choking on his pizza.

He turned to me with wide, surprised eyes, and with rapidly flaming cheeks. "What?" he managed to utter through his very obviously restricted throat. "You want to ask me. . ." he left it unspoken as his ears burned even deeper.

"Hypothetically," I amended

A part of me wanted to slink to the floor and shimmy out the door from mortification, but the other half of me had become too emboldened.

He cleared his throat behind his hand that he then used to wipe his mouth clean of sauce. " _Hypothetically_ , you want to know if I'd fuck you if you asked?"

I nodded coyly. "Hypothetically, would you have?"

Hypothetically my ass! There was no mistaking the innuendo behind it even if Edward did misconstrue it as nausea, with me about to puke all over his pants.

Subconsciously, my gaze drifted to his jeaned lap. It was . . . expanding.

Mother of god!

My eyes snapped back to his; they were burning, turning dark and intense.

"Yes," he answered, and his eyes dipped to my lips momentarily before they again locked with mine.

"Then fuck me, Edward," I whispered, but I wasn't Celeste anymore; I was suddenly scared shitless—as Rose would say.

There was a pause, before a carefully concealed emotion flickered behind his eyes. In the next instant he reached out, placed his palm around the back of my neck and pulled me to meet his lips.

It was the nipple twist that caused the orgasm—another one of Rose's catch phrases. I let go of every and all inhibitions I'd previously held and completely surrendered myself to this moment.

* * *

 **A/N: yeah, a slight cliffie. . .  
Anywho, let me know your thoughts, or you can always lurk, I suppose.  
Til next time,  
MWAH xoxo**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You know how you set out to write one thing and it goes in a completely different direction? That's what happened here. . .  
I'll explain more at the end.  
Also, if you're reading Because of You, I apologise for the delay. I'm so blocked with Edward it's driving me agro! Ugh.  
Alrighty then. . . **

* * *

**Chapter 5**

 **Who Knew**

We were kissing. It was tender and slightly heated, but it was just kissing—with little indication that it was going to go further.

I say this like it was commonplace, but in actual fact all the clichéd things were going on within me. I was seeing fireworks; they were exploding in every nerve ending, taking every pore of my skin to a heightened sensitivity. My heart was rampaging, making me breathless and flustered, while the burning surge of desire raging through me was taking me to the very edge of purgatory. I was now the slave, the marionette; Celeste was in complete control, pulling the strings—choreographing all of it.

Hell, was I still trying to convince myself that Celeste was just a shadow of my former self? The reality was I'd long ago mastered my reputation as a crowd splitting ho of biblical proportions, and I had a fully-fledged PhD in "Whore Relations 101".

I was thinking that god damn word so much, I figured I'd say it out loud.

"I told you I was a whore . . . Edward," I breathed, after he'd pulled from my mouth to plunge that two day old stubble into the delicate tissue of my neck.

"Shut up, Bella—you're not a whore!" was his thick, husky-voiced reply, before his parted, pizza scented lips once again took mine. He was inching me back against the sofa, slowly, inevitably, until his body was pressing flush and fully against mine.

My hunger and lust had completely taken over; I was past the point of no return. If I was a whore, then so be it. This was all I wanted—this was what I'd desperately yearned for for so long now that I'd barely thought of little else. Feeling Edward's hands over me, his lips connecting and reconnecting with mine with the same fervor, while the hard, bulging part of him burned against my stomach. I knew that tonight—even if it was only one night—he'd be mine.

He'd know me, and I'd know him.

I couldn't pull out of it if I tried.

He continued to kiss me, his lips so gentle that as they enveloped mine it was almost a caress. Even when he parted his mouth to take more of me—take me down with him—he remained so gentle and cautious, I could have cried.

It was so overwhelming, but I still yearned for more, and the more he kissed me, the more the buzzing energy, running just below the surface of my skin, increased; taking me beyond all rationality.

He released his breath, whispering my name as he exhaled, before placing his lips against the base of my throat. They were supple and burning against my flesh, laying a path of kisses that trailed along my jaw, to my ear and back to my mouth. Hot, and delicate, and completely bringing me apart.

I closed my eyes, my hands running from his face into his mass of thick hair, allowing myself to become wholly and hopelessly lost in him.

He paused, the air gushing from his nose, before suddenly pulling back, as if he needed to catch his breath. This is when I caught his expression. His brow was heavily knotted; he looked to be concentrating, but at the same time he looked . . . in pain.

I noticed it only fleetingly, before he again merged his lips with mine, but it made my heart stagger and my stomach knot. My thoughts lingered on it, before Celeste pushed it to the back of my mind as the taste and feel of Edward filled me once more.

Again he hesitated, just a fraction, as a strangled, breathless sounding groan left him. It was so primal and raw that it almost sent me over the edge, causing the fire beneath my skin to burn out of control. But his lips all too soon devoured mine again, with the concern over his expression from a moment ago already lost in the heated abyss of his mouth, when his chest suddenly shuddered against me.

It almost felt as if it was . . . a sob.

"Ed-ward?" I managed to utter, my lips still partially caught between his.

But suddenly it was as if a switch was flicked within him, and his whole demeanor changed.

He seemed suddenly . . . hostile. His kiss went from tender and passionate to urgent and rough. His hands pressed harder against my skin, while he pulled at my clothes forcefully.

This sudden shift in energy excited me, and I reacted to him with all the overzealousness that Celeste had instilled in me during my long, innovative nights with my vibrator.

In the next instant Edward pulled us both to our feet, tearing my shirt over my head—taking both layers off at once. He then made the same work of his, before I dragged him back to me, almost hyperventilating from the extremes of my arousal.

I noticed his expression again before his lips collided with mine. His eyes were dark and hooded, almost hard, and with pure hunger.

I ran my hands over his bare chest, over the soft, light covering of hair that covered it, until I reached his neck and held him firmly to me.

This was Edward.

Edward.

It was all I could coherently process, as all other thoughts were scrambled; like a whole lot of people screaming on a rollercoaster, loud and buzzing but blurred together. And the screams mashed together were speaking a single word: yes. A thousand yeses all at once, both in and out of sync

 _Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! OH GOD, YES!_

We stumbled over furniture, fell to the ground, then dragged ourselves back to our feet without severing the searing connection of our lips, and while tearing at our remaining clothes like hyenas.

My skin was ignited from his touch, and as his hands covered every degree of my body, it caused my nerve endings to explode. His hands, his lips, both covered me; savoring me; tasting me. And he was rough; almost hurting me in his haste to remove my clothes and pull me further to him.

As his mouth found my skin it at times almost felt as if he was biting me, and every sound—every breath coming from him—was purely primitive, physical . . . but _angry_.

Still, I was a willing participant—more than willing; the craving had overcome me with just as much greed and hunger. When I kissed him it was to taste as much of him as I could; when I ran my hands through his hair, it was to grab fistfuls of it to pull him further to me. His course stubby face dragged across my skin, leaving a burning path of desire that I reacted to with shameful, wanton relish.

I was completely blindsided and overrun, my breath coming out in rasps; meeting and merging with his and bathing us in the building energy of our arousal.

I had fully embraced Celeste by this point; this is what I knew best, after all; sex. Detached, unemotional, purely for physical pleasure, sex! Nothing personal, no names; no _I-love-yous_. Just sex.

Wait. . .

Edward had me pressed up against the wall as he ravished my neck and mouth. My shoulder blades began to ache from the pressure of it, and while I had abandoned myself to the tangible force of it, a slight ripple of panic began to swell within me.

I was suddenly pulled from the ground and pushed harder against the hard surface as Edward anchored me against it; holding one of my legs around his waist. I flinched in pain, but his mouth covered mine, swallowing it, before moving to my neck. His face was practically buried against me, as his short, hot, strangled breath washed over me, making beads of sweat break to the surface of my brow.

I was overcome. It was going so fast that I was struggling to keep up. I was almost literally burning with a building climax, but I was beginning to feel flustered and panicked, while my mind raced to separate what was happening, from comprehending what I felt about it.

His hands moved from behind my knee, sliding further up my thigh, before he gripped me; his fingers digging deep into my flesh. I was close to crying out from the pain behind it, when I felt him, burning hot and irresistibly hard. I braced myself against him—against the wall—just as he pushed his entire body up against me, entering me in a hard, almost brutal motion.

It pushed me over the edge.

I threw my head back, whacking it against the wall, as the ecstasy filling me spilled from my mouth.

YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!

As the energy continued to erupt from me, I was blinded by the blaze of it from behind my eyes. Over and over, rebounding and exploding, multiplying and climbing, pushing its way out of me with each spasming breath I took.

Edward entered and reentered me repeatedly. Filling me; engulfing me; consuming me. And still the magnetism continued to expand and climb. From the pit of my stomach and the very depths of my soul it grew and heightened, flowing like a current over me.

YES, YES, YES!

"Oh, God!" I cried out, before letting my face flop against Edward's hard, sweaty shoulder as I began to come down.

 _No, no, no, no. ._. an echo-like cry resounded deep within me, carried further into coherency as it seemed to sync with each rapid beat of my heart.

 _NO. NO. NO. NO. NO_! My heart hammered against my ribs, fast and furious.

I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated only on trying to rein in my ravished breath, while listening to the restricted, guttural sounds coming from Edward, and the sound of his groin thudding against mine. Damp, pliable skin violently connecting and releasing, repeatedly.

As the energy gradually left me, as my breath calmed; as I focused on the raw sounds around me, I was suddenly faced with an incredible sense of déjà vu. And as what was usual with me, as the orgasm left me, emptiness was left in its wake. Emptiness, because I had given myself physically, allowing my body to function on a purely physical level while depriving myself completely of intimacy. This was my sexual experiences with everyone—with Jake; all physical desire and hunger; nothing else.

And as if to validate it, Jacob's face flashed behind my eyes, startling me—forcing the air out of my lungs.

No!

I wrapped my arms around Edward's back clinging to him as he continued to move against me; his muscles rock hard and beginning to tremble under the weight of me and his own building climax.

This was what I had with Jacob—this was _not_ what I wanted with Edward!

Edward's breath came to a shuddering halt and a deep, almost choked groan left him. It was then that his movements hitched and he suddenly rammed his entire body against me, digging himself painfully deep within me; then again and again with each aggressive thrust.

I sucked in my breath, closing my mouth hastily before the cry became audible. Biting down hard on my lower lip, I dug my nails into the burning flesh of his shoulders, as silent, broken tears began to spill down my cheeks.

And still his body continued to slam against mine repeatedly and without mercy.

 _One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . ._ I counted inwardly, flinching with each of them as the tears continued to fall uncontrollably down my face, while attempting to desperately hold back the sobs.

His body began to quake and tremble violently, then with a final thrusting movement and with a breathless, grunting "oomph" sound, his body convulsed and was still.

Neither of us spoke, while Edward's heavy, labored breath washed out the quiet presence of my tears.

I continued to grip his shoulders, feeling his pulse race in sync with the pounding of him still within me. I dug my nails into his skin deeper, feeling him reflexively react as I tried to gain control of myself. My chest was starting to jerk; the emotion was becoming harder to contain. I was beginning to feel as if it was completely drowning me.

He moved his head, his sweaty brow brushing lightly against my cheek, before he locked his burning eyes with mine. They were wide, weary—and hard, but when he noticed my tears, a sudden alarm reflected in them.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I superseded him.

"Put me down," I pleaded with him, my voice barely audible, and breaking pitifully with fresh tears.

He stepped back hastily, tentatively helping me to my feet.

Realizing I was completely naked—with my clothes still lying in a heap around the living room—I moved quickly to cover myself.

"Bella—" he began in a hoarse, stricken tone, but again I cut him off.

"I have to go!" I burst, my tears continuing on a free fall down my face. "I-I _have to go, NOW_!" My voice quivered; I was beginning to sound irrational, but I meant it. I had to leave!

Sinking to the floor, I pulled my knees to my chest in a more effective way to conceal my naked body; dropping my face to my arms.

Edward, the man I adored with every part of my heart, had just treated me . . . like Jake.

Never would I have believed it, but then what exactly had I expected?

This was not the carefully planned out scene I had envisioned of making love with him. This was a man I trusted, greedily using my body for pleasure. He had been brutal and cold—exactly what I was used to, what I had convinced myself was normal.

What I had _asked_ him to do.

Was this Edward . . . ?

But then maybe that's what I deserved. I was the wanton pastor's daughter; I was Celeste; I was a whore by stealth—and he had treated me as exactly that.

I heard him hurrying around, before he approached me again, feeling his body heat as he got closer to me. He was emanating bucket loads of it.

I looked up, he was kneeling beside me, wearing only his jeans, and sickeningly Celeste had the fucking nerve to brighten within me.

"Here's your clothes, Bella," he said softly, his deeply knotted brow almost disguising the heart ache in his eyes.

He handed me my bundled clothes, before quickly pulling himself to his feet again and walking out of the room.

I dressed gingerly, my hands shaking so violently it was almost an impossible act, while my body tingled with an aching energy. I wasn't sure whether this time it was my pain derived Tourette's or because I was feeling near psychotic with the explosion of emotion racing through me, but I wanted to scream every obscenity I'd learned since infancy. And still the tears refused to stop.

I was buttoning up my jeans when Edward returned to the room.

"Bella?" he breached me gently.

I looked up at him, but I couldn't meet his eyes. "What?' I whispered, ashamed—so incredibly ashamed of myself.

Something I had never felt, until now.

"I'm so sorry—I didn't mean for it to go like that." Every word he spoke was seeped in remorse and regret, but my heart was suddenly clamped shut; it bounced straight off me.

"To go like what?" I demanded, becoming pissed off. "For you to fuck me like the whore you said I wasn't?"

But it wasn't him I was angry at.

"Jesus, Bella—you _asked_ me to!" he fired back, but he wasn't angry or defensive; he was defeated; guilty.

"I asked you?" I repeated incredulously, my voice rising; elevating the depths of my pain. "I _didn't_ ask for _this_! That was how Jake treated me—I thought you were different—I thought I meant more than that to you?" I accused him, breaking down; losing out once again to the crushing tears.

I was pathetic; I wanted to throw a hissy and grow a fucking spine—and still, I didn't want to let him go.

But I had to get out of there.

"What do you want from me, Bella—it's not as if we're _in love_ or anything." His tone turned hard and sarcastic. "What did you think would happen?"

This cut deep, and for a moment I was frozen by the reality of it.

"Fuck you, Edward?" I spat, before I slapped him so hard across the face that my hand stung.

The pain was searing from his eyes, cementing in his expression, but it only plunged the knife further into my heart.

I ran past him, grabbed my bag and left his apartment, slamming the door behind me.

Ridiculously, the stupid, whorish, infantile side of me always thought that slapping a guy would turn me on—that's what Rose insisted it would do, and I'd seen her do it enough to various guys she was screwing—but I felt as if I was the one who was slapped. It didn't excite me or turn me on; I recoiled from it, hurt and ashamed.

Of course, not a moment later, Edward was hot on my heels.

He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back, preventing me from taking a further step. "Bella, you have no way of getting home, remember? I'll drive you."

"Get the fuck off me, Edward!" I yelled; the irrational tone of my voice mixed with my shattered emotion, making me sound like a lunatic.

"Bella, come on. . ." His voice was weary, again sounding lost and defeated.

I whipped around to face him, but quickly lost momentum by the sheer look of remorse and anguish shining in his eyes.

"You fucked me, and in a few days you're leaving. I think we're done here." My voice broke, almost failing me, as I held myself together by the barest minimum; being reminded repeatedly how I had completely fucked it up with him.

He didn't release my hand; instead, he continued to pull me toward him. "Come back inside, and I'll call Rose to come and pick you up."

I only shook my head, breaking eye contact with him, as tears once again choked through me. "I can't, Edward. It's best if we just end things here. . ." I replied with barely a whisper, but with humiliated conviction; my heart continuing to clench in pain as I heard these words leave my mouth. And as I looked up again, I saw the consequences of them reflect in his expression.

He let my hand go, and my fingers slipped gently through his, becoming cold almost instantly.

"Goodbye, Bella. I'm so sorry," he admitted, quietly, before turning and walking back up the stairs until he was gone.

I waited outside in the freezing night for Rose as I paced back and forth, distraught beyond reason while continuing to fight the futile battle of getting myself under some kind of control. The tears were beginning to suffocate me, burning a hole straight through my chest.

There was no more lust and desire from Celeste; everything I was an hour ago and everything I had with Edward was gone forever.

Rose pulled up thirty minutes later. She got out of the car, and without a word, wrapped her arms around me.

I collapsed against her and let myself surrender to the crippling pain.

I had broken up with my boyfriend the day before; my boyfriend of four years. This was _exactly_ what I should have been feeling.

"What the hell happened, Bella?" Rose asked me, pulling back to gauge me. "I've got Edward ringing me up, soundingcompletely _shattered_ , and now you . . . like this. . ."

I tried to speak, but I only sounded drunk, incoherent, and beyond pitiful. I couldn't get past speaking Edward's name before I, again, completely broke down. I managed to articulate the words "fuck" and "whore" before my lucid faculties were all but snuffed out.

I cried all the way home, going completely fetal in the passenger seat of Rose's car while she glanced at me with an expression that I wasn't familiar with. No smirk, no mocking; no amusement, and it only made me feel ten times worse.

"What-what did Edward say on the phone?" I asked her, wiping my sodden face feebly, as a shuddering breath erupted from my chest.

"He said 'I've fucked things badly with Bella' and then asked if I could come and get you, because you wouldn't let him drive you home," she answered simply, her brows drawing together the longer her gazed held mine.

I harrumphed pathetically—because it only made my nose spurt out all over me. "If by ' _things_ ' he means _me_ , then he's right; though, ' _fucked badly'_ isn't how I'd explain it. ' _Fucked_ _brutally'_ is more accurate."

I heard Rose exhale loudly beside me, sounding somewhat frustrated this time. "Bella, please tell me you told him how you feel!?"

"No," I confessed.

"Well how the hell did the two of you wind up in bed?"

"Bed?" I snorted sarcastically. "A bed would have been more comfortable, at least. I didn't get that courtesy"— my voice broke before it rose and blazed with anger—" _I_ got thrown up against a wall and slammed into it several times."

I wanted to be angry with Edward, I really did, but if I was fooling Rose she didn't let on. Because let's face it, I sure as hell wasn't fooling myself.

Rose glanced at me again and huffed out her breath shortly, without disguising the fact that she also rolled her eyes. "Go take a shower. We'll talk when you get out. You're a mess!" She switched off the car's engine and slid out of the driver's side, slamming the door behind her.

We were home.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, this was something that was inevitable with Bella. She needed to have this epiphany, to grow and understand that what she feels for Edward really is different; that she's evolving. It was just hard to insert humour into it.**

 **Anywho, I hope it translates well, and I hope that you're continuing to enjoy.  
And thank you to SunflowerFran for enjoying this little fic enough to link it in her FB group.  
:) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Almost 100 faves. You're all gorge! I appreciate it, and I'm glad you're enjoying, so far.  
Just a reminder, despite the last chapter, this fic is what the summary suggests, silly; a romance comedy. So it's going get back there this chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **Sex, Lies and Video Tape**

Adjusting the temperature of the shower I stepped under the hot spray.

My skin was alight; every inch of me was buzzing with adrenalin, and in every pore I could feel Edward. I could smell him. Parts of me were burning and tender, but it did nothing to diminish the current of energy that was dominating my every emotion, while rushing through me on a collision course.

I was completely and utterly overrun with it, but for some reason I was no longer angry. I was hurt that Edward had treated me so coldly and callously, but in the same sense, he was right.

I'd asked him to fuck me, _not_ to make love to me.

As I washed his scent from my body, I began to feel a sense of calm and acceptance. I knew now I was fully responsible for what had taken place. I had greedily coveted that physical side of Edward, like the whore I'd never stopped being, so I had no right to be angry when what I'd received from him was wholly physical.

Still, it wasn't to say I was indifferent.

He'd been rough, he'd physically hurt me, but what bothered me the most was having to let go of certain illusions I had constructed in my mind. I was mourning the loss of something I had only imagined; a scene I'd played out in my mind every night—and every time I'd participated in the charade of sex with Jacob. A fairy tale; a childish dream of Edward making love to me.

It was a delusion I had to let go of; more now than anything.

Maybe if I'd kept myself firmly anchored in reality, I wouldn't have been so taken aback by what had happened tonight. I'd never expected Edward to fuck me without a shred of emotion, but then what did I really expect from him?

He'd said it himself; we weren't in love. At least, he wasn't in love with me.

Leaning my head against the cool shower tiles, I closed my eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely from beneath my lashes.

That's what really hurt; the validation that Edward didn't love me.

But if that was the case, why couldn't I shake the feeling that he had still felt . . . _something_?

He might have fucked me till I was near unconscious, but he'd still done it with an edge of passion. He wasn't as detached as Jake always was. _Jake_ only worried about getting himself off while tightening his ass cheeks in the process, before he could go back to his sofa and watch football.

But Edward . . . I couldn't explain it. He was switched off, but at the same time, he was completely in tune. I wasn't sure whether he was angry or why, but he was definitely receptive to what we were doing.

In fact, now that I thought about it, he'd expressed a lot of emotion—an almost ferociousness that surprised me.

And because I was nothing short of a wanton masochist, as the memory relayed in my mind, Celeste stirred.

I had to admit, Edward's rough, man-handling was more than a slight turn-on.

"Dammit. . ." I muttered, half sobbing in frustration.

I was clearly insane.

"Coffee's up, Marlena!" Came Rose's unusually aggravated-sounding voice, before a loud rap on the door brought me promptly out of my self-pity.

With a long, wavering sigh, I turned the water off and pulled the towel from the railing around me.

All traces of Edward were now gone; his aftershave from my skin; the taste of his lips from mine.

Gone.

 **. . .**

"Jesus Christ, Bella!" Rose declared incredulously, when I emerged from the stairs into the living room, still only wearing the robe around my chest.

"What?" I asked blankly, my voice dull as I sat myself down on the sofa and picked up the cup of coffee she'd left on the table for me.

"For one thing, your back—and not to mention the serious make out rash you have over your face!" She cocked a suspicious brow at me.

I shrugged, bringing the coffee to my lips. "I told you . . . it got pretty rough."

"Rough? How in God's name did it come to this? You look like you've been ravished by a werewolf!" It was evident she was impatient, but she also appeared genuinely annoyed.

"I asked him to. . ." I admitted quietly, lowering my eyes, ashamed.

"Without telling him how you feel?" Her voice turned screechy behind her obvious exasperation.

"Yeah. . ."

"Let me get this straight. You asked the man you're in love with—who has the same feelings in return—to fuck you, no strings attached?" She leaned over and slammed her coffee mug on the glass table top. "What the fucking hell, Bella?!"

"I-I guess when you say it like that, but what does it matter? He all but admitted that he doesn't feel anything for me. I regret it—I don't know what I was thinking, but I wish. . ." I abandoned it, because it was a lie. I didn't regret it; none of it.

I just wasn't sure how I felt about any of it.

What the hell, I had no idea how I felt about anything anymore; only that that bitch, Celeste, had staged a sit in and wasn't going anywhere. That part was obvious by the frequent flash-backs I was getting of Edward's hard, sweaty body ramming repeatedly against mine.

My chest began to squeeze, and I feared taking a breath in case I wheezed. Rose was a bigger whore than my subconscious ever dreamed of. She'd zero in on it in a heartbeat.

Rose was gazing at me, her familiar smirking, self-confidence back prominently in her features. "Alice brought over the video from her party. Want to see what's on it?"

My heart stonewalled. "Wh—" I began but she cut me off.

"But first, listen to this." She stood up from the couch and walked over to the answering machine, with deliberate emphasis to her strides. She hit replay and Edward's stammering, despondent-sounding voice suddenly filled the room.

"Hi, Rose, it's Edward. Listen . . . I've fucked things up so badly with Bella that she doesn't want anything else to do with me. Would you be able to pick her up from my place—she won't let me drive her home. She's outside"—he cleared his throat softly, sounding more uncertain by the second—"I-I couldn't get her to wait inside. And . . . can you tell her I'm really sorry? It wasn't . . . it wasn't what she thinks. Anyway, bye . . ."

Turning to me, Rose folded her arms meticulously across her chest. "Does that sound like a guy who doesn't have any feelings what-so-ever for you?"

I was only half listening to her; my thoughts were completely compromised by the tone of Edward's voice. It was if it had reached out, grabbed my heart and clenched tightly. He sounded so truly remorseful and disheartened that it affected me immediately. So much so, I wanted to jump in my car, throw myself in his arms and tell him how sorry I was.

Though, that probably wouldn't work. No doubt, once I was there, Celeste would stage a hostile take-over of my faculties, and I'd more than likely ask him to fuck me again.

And considering the present condition of my hoohah, such actions would prove to be suicidal.

"Mind out of the gutter, Celeste!" Rose's dry-toned voice snapped me from the embarrassing instance of mind fucking my way into another potential disaster—in front of her.

Edward might have been completely clueless when it came to my wanton feelings towards him, but Rose sure as hell wasn't.

" _Just because I'm often slammed by a six pack with a dick, doesn't mean I don't know exactly what's going on around me_ ," she'd often state.

I wasn't going to call her bluff; I'd tried and failed numerous times in the past.

She suddenly snorted, loud and obnoxiously.

Too late.

"You bawled for an hour, slobbering all over my Gucci car seat covers because he treated you like a whore, and here you are scheming to get back in his pants!" she declared with only minimal amounts of disgust.

"I _am not_!" I insisted, just as my face burst shamelessly into flames, immediately contradicting me.

Rose cocked an eyebrow, before her face clouded a little. "So you're only interested in fucking him and not whether he feels anything for you?"

I felt myself tense indignantly in response. "Of course not—how can you say that?" I demanded.

"Bella, I have no fucking idea what's going on in that head of yours, so I can only imagine what Edward thinks. The poor guy's confused. When I spoke to him tonight he was _genuinely fucking confused_!" She threw her hands in the air with a brash huff, before turning and grabbing a DVD from the hall stand. "Sit your ass down and watch this!"

I did as she said; she was beginning to scare me. I only ever deliberately pissed Rose off when she was drunk, and even then it was Russian Roulette as to whether she'd remember in the morning. I'd been woken up more than once by a cup of cold water as part of her reprisals, in the past.

I slunk back into the sofa with overly feigned begrudgery, because the truth was, I was eager to see how Edward and I appeared to a third party. And I was eager to relive my time with him from the engagement party; to see again how beyond ridiculously hot he looked that night. . .

The video began with a preamble by Alice and Jazz. I didn't focus on it too much, knowing on closer inspection I'd probably gag.

Those two could out-cheese a Harlequin romance novel—one of the hard core ones that featured Fabio on the cover.

After Jazz and Alice's heave-worthy displays of undying love, complete with promises of oompa loompa babies, the video began filtering through the gathering crowds. I spotted Edward immediately. He was chatting with a couple of guys who I was somewhat familiar with. When he noticed the camera focused on him he smiled in a sheepish, self-conscious kind of way that made me want to lunge salaciously for the flat screen.

"Don't think I don't know that you're itching to lick the screen, Celeste," Rose spoke wryly with a tone that hinted at the eye roll that I didn't catch.

The bitch always knew when I was in Celeste-mode before I did!

She hit fast forward on the remote and Edward was quickly by-passed until he reappeared a moment later, when Rose hit play once again.

He reappeared . . . with _me_.

He had his arm slung casually over my shoulder, leaning down slightly to hear what I was saying to him; while I stared up at him, with a starry eyed display of lust that made me openly cringe.

"Keep watching, Marlena. His fuck me eyes aren't blatantly written across his barely concealed rack like yours are, but they're there."

"My _rack isn't_. . ." I began in protest, when I quickly realized that indeed my chest was practically erupting from the plunging neckline of my dress—deliberately, mind you, and having the desired effect that I had intended.

Edward's eyes were glued to them.

I really was a whore. Honestly, why would I expect him to buy the whole freaking ice cream truck when I was handing out the popsicles for free?

Okay, yes, "Never Been Kissed" is a favorite movie of mine. Rose and Alice made me watch it as a part of their post John Hughes revivalist strategy—after I'd confessed my true feelings for Edward.

Bitches.

"So he's staring at my tits—that I'd barely bothered to conceal. Give me a single male on the face of this planet who wouldn't?"

Rose snorted and maliciously hit fast forward again—in a way that was beginning to give me the impression of cock blocking whip-lash—only to stop and hit play, with me on the screen and—

—Oh god, one of the Slavin brothers. . .

I'd displayed my girls that night—like the wanton harlot I was—for Edward's benefit, but I didn't expect to attract the attention of Nana Slavin, the slide show wielding madam for the interests of her two lecherous grandsons.

Letch Slavin, the encyclopedia of sex salesman, also had his eyes glued to my girls; making his lewd desires more obvious and less tasteful than Edward had earlier.

That was until Edward himself suddenly interjected—and freaking hell if my blush hadn't worked its way right down to my broadcasted bosom.

Only Edward wasn't ogling my rack, this time; he was staring into my eyes, a slight smile on his lips that increased and grew broad and tender.

Even as I watched it happen on screen, my celestial thoughts began re-enacting the scene, while slowly, one by one switching on every erogenous zone that existed within me.

It was interesting to see it play out from an outside perspective—and more than a little exposing. I looked almost carnal as I stood in Edward's arms—the main motive for Rose's sudden, all-knowing smirk.

But I wasn't in the right mindset to be embarrassed by my captured-on-film display of wantonness. My eyes were glued to the screen, to every detail on Edward's face; to the fact that as he gazed at me, his eyes began to turn dark and hooded.

"Focus. . ." Rose spoke from beside me, her tone taking on a mocking edge.

We were dancing, but we both suddenly appeared awkward and uncomfortable.

"Focus. . ." the wench repeated, deliberately emphasizing and drawing it out. She was completely ruining the visual in front of me, and what I could utilize later with Roddy—if that fucker wasn't out of power—when suddenly her meaning became clear.

I moved into Edward, ever so slightly. . .

". . . Aaaaaand stop!" Rose over dramatized—I felt—pausing the video.

I was jarred, but more than that, I was suddenly, _ravenously_ , switched on.

Edward's eyes were closed and the expression on his face was one of pure emotional anguish. His brow was deeply etched, his bottom lip almost pulled between his teeth.

It was raw and. . .

Oh, Christ—I'd seen that expression a million times before.

In the mirror.

"Before you nose-dive for your vibrator, Marlena, at least take the time to properly understand what his body language is screaming out like a banshee for all to see."

I tried to take a breath, but gasped; feeling my chest go tight.

"He's. Strung. Out!" Her tone was one of pure frustration and exasperation, but I could barely register it.

Could he . . . could he feel the same way?

Oh god—Celeste had switched on the disco ball to my happy valley.

 _Flick, flick, flick_. . . Every single one of my sensory receptors were suddenly dialed to optimum capacity.

"Keep your pants on, girl—besides, it gets better. You haven't witnessed the Britney Spears footage, yet."

She hit fast forward, while I sat stunned, in the midst of having an erotic epiphany, with projected porn.

The video stopped to normal playback, revealing Edward and I—with me pulled forward into Edward's arms— _kissing_!

Not just kissing, but _kissing_! _From Here To Eternity_ kissing!

The oxygen was suddenly squeezed from my lungs as all recourse was thus diverted southward.

 _Mother of God!_

I ogled the screen in a shameful display of lustful greed, completely oblivious to the goings on of Rose's wiseass aspersions.

I elbowed her regardless. It had become a purely instinctive, knee-jerk reaction with Rose since I was fifteen.

Of course, bitch face, little-miss-grand-supreme had to flick it to slow motion for added prospectus.

Inwardly, I was more than wantonly grateful, because it was becoming blatantly obvious as Edward and I moved in response to each other, that _he_ was kissing _me_ , and not the other way around—which I had naturally assumed, given my skanky behavior up until that point.

"I know kissing, Mrs. Brady, and what he's doing isn't some frivolous, drunken make out session, with an added feel up. That's a whole lot of emotion right there—look at the way he's grabbing your hair. If it was nothing but a quick smooch and tit grope that hand would be doing the grand tour beneath your dress—not playing out an internal struggle." And to emphasize her point she rewound and replayed it; in slow motion again, of course.

And she was right, Edward's hands were completely chaste, rigid and reflecting a definite internal struggle. A struggle my inner counterpart definitely wasn't engaging in—considering I had my leg cocked around his waist; probably too drunk to appreciate what I was doing.

And still, with everything that had happened between us that day, Celeste didn't appear satiated, but rather continued to poke away at the flames of sexual desire that I continued to harbor for Edward.

"Do you have any batteries, Rose?" I suddenly asked, sounding completely off my gourd.

She scoffed noisily. "After missing my Game of Thrones porn due to your good vibrations last time, Mrs. Brady, I've hidden them." She folded her arms again. "But I'll make you a deal."

I glanced up at her, my brows coming together in suspicion. "What?" I asked slowly.

"Call Edward and sort out this bullshit that happened tonight and I'll give you half of my battery stash." She flashed me a "how-about-it" brow raise.

Her words invoked in me the usual blood curdling fear at the prospect of confessing my undying love to Edward, and in gauging my reaction her expression began to take on a hostile Edge. In fact, her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head.

I opened my mouth to plead for mercy when she all but exploded, "You mean to tell me that you _still_ don't believe me!?"

"I do"—I didn't—"but it's just taking that final leap of faith. Ya know . . . ?"

It was pitiful, but Rose's insistence that Edward was in love with me seemed just as plausible as if she was telling me I was going to win the Powerball jackpot. As much as I wanted to believe her. . .

 _Fucking pussy_! My voice screamed behind my thoughts, and I wasn't sure whether it was my own self-loathing, or the self-aware declarations of Celeste expressing her widespread outrage.

Rose took a measured breath, when I was saved by the shrill ring of the telephone. She snatched it up, throwing me a dark, exasperated glare before answering with a short, sharp, "Yeah?"

She extended the receiver to me a moment later. "It's John Black."

She then stalked out of the room and disappeared upstairs.

Wench!

"Hello?" I breached, suddenly paranoid that Jake was aware of what had just happened between me and Edward, and the tremor to my tone reflected it.

"Bella?"

Jeez, even the great ape himself didn't recognize me behind it. That was enough for my immediate irritation to wash out any manifestations of guilt.

"Who the hell else would it be?" I snapped.

"How would I know? I didn't expect you to sound so weepy. Missing me already are you?" he drawled, growing cocky.

"Like I miss a good dose of Chinese food poisoning. What the hell do you want? Left your mankini here, or something?" The bitch snapped easily back into place, snuffing out all whispers of paranoia for good.

"Yeah, well when I get my _mankini_ back, I'll give you back your fake Louis Vuitton, princess."

If he hadn't pronounced it "Louise Futon", I would have been almost impressed.

"What do you want, Jake?" I repeated with a minimal amount of decency.

"I'm having a going away party—" he began when I interrupted him.

"I thought you were sick!"

He sighed loudly. "I _am_ sick, but it's not until next week. Do you wanna come, or not?"

"Jake, the whole idea of breaking up with you was so I _wouldn't_ have to bear witness to all the man-whoring that you previously did behind my back."

"Well, I thought we could bury the hatchet, but if you just want to be a bitch then forget it!" And with that he hung up on me.

I snorted in disgust and threw the phone against the sofa.

"What was that all about?" Rose asked, hanging over the railing, from her position of eavesdropping.

"Jake invited me to his 'going away party'," I answered in a mocking tone, quoting with my fingers.

When she didn't reply I turned to fully gauge her reaction. She was just staring down at me, her expression dumbfounded, before shaking her head ever so slightly.

At least we were on the same page regarding that; though, I was sure a part of her bewilderment was directed at me.

"Is Edward going?" she asked while the cogs in her brain began clearly turning.

"I don't know—I don't know when Edward's leaving," I answered while the impact of those words had such an effect on me that my voice almost broke.

Rose's face softened. "You should find out."

 **. . .**

I decided to retire to bed early; this was despite Celeste coaxing me to go a mile with Roddy, while replaying the angsty, passionate images of Edward kissing me in the back of my mind. But I was emotionally spent; besides, I didn't like the idea of using up battery power on Roddy for half-hearted efforts.

Unless, I took Rose up on her offer and called Edward. . .

While I was suspended in a moment of consideration, my celestial self, obviously having more power over me than I had given her credit, snatched up my iPhone and had hit Edward's number before recognition took over.

He answered relatively quickly, before I could contemplate the thought of throwing myself out the window.

"Bella. . ." The regret and despondency in his tone was still so prevalent, and it tugged so heavily on my heart strings that again I acted without further thought.

"I'm so sorry, Edward!" I blurted out with genuine remorse, and again, my voice wavered.

"Why are you sorry? Jesus, Bella, you didn't do anything."

Oh god, the emotion was so prominent in his tone that I closed my eyes; seeing him run his fingers through his hair so clearly.

"Edward—what I asked you . . . I had no right. I'm sorry. I've ruined everything between us."

He exhaled shortly into the phone, and this time the picture in my thoughts was that adorkable smile he often flashed me.

And I wanted to die.

"You haven't ruined anything," he assured me.

"Really?" I asked softly, full of hope.

"Really really," he teased me gently.

Yeah, we'd watched "Shrek" together a year before, and it had sort of become our "thing". Because even as "friends" we had a cutsie way of talking to each other.

I closed my eyes, trying not to vocalize the groan that had begun beneath my breath.

 _Say it, Bella—tell him_! I ordered myself, becoming frustrated at my own complete lack of spine.

I took a deep, determined breath . . .

"Edward . . . ?" I breached, while Celeste began to play a bongo solo with my heart—rapidly pushing heat to the surface of my skin.

"Yeah?"

"I. . . I. . ." I stalled, and steeling myself, I drew in another breath, when I became distracted by loud banging from the other side of the wall.

"Admit it to him, Marlena!" Rose yelled out.

I cringed, suddenly feeling flustered and exposed. It completely threw me off, and with irritation I huffed sharply, immediately hollering in reply—only half concealing the mouth piece of my phone, "I was about to, YOU WHORE—god dammit!"

"Um . . . Bella?" Came Edward's voice, taking on an edge of amusement.

Removing the phone from my ear, I whacked myself repeatedly in the forehead with it.

Fuck my life!

"I'm sorry," I eventually answered.

"What . . . were you about to . . . ?" he prompted me.

"Er—apologize," I lied quickly, and I was sure I heard a discernible "harrumph" coming from Rose's half of the wall.

The cow probably had a glass up against it

Shaking it from my thoughts, I focused back on Edward.

"You already have, and I told you, you have nothing to apologize about. . ." his voice trailed at the end, as if he was succumbing to his thoughts. The same way I was succumbing to mine.

 _Why is it so hard to say it?_ I wanted to rage out loud, but instead, I only whacked my forehead with the heel of my palm this time, in further frustration.

"Bella, do you want to talk about this?" Edward asked me.

"Talk about . . . ?"

"Look," he stated, suddenly sounding resolute, "this is getting ridiculous. We really need to sort all this out between us."

My pulse began to race and with all the sensory defining Celeste was doing, my skin was really beginning to prickle. I opened my mouth, only to utter a stuttering, croaky sound.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, as uncertainty began to creep back into his tone again. "Do . . . you want to just pretend it didn't happen?"

I sighed deeply, feeling so utterly overwhelmed and defeated by my own self-sabotaging self-esteem. "I don't know, Edward."

And I didn't.

"Bella, we need to talk, seriously. There's . . . there's something I really have to talk to you about."

I opened my mouth before closing it again, while the bongo solo stepped up a notch rendering me speechless. But I didn't _want_ to speak—or even breathe—in case he elaborated and shoved a nicely shaped bitch of a needle through my forming bubble of John Hughes inspired happily-ever-afters.

Of course, a moment later, that's exactly what he did.

"I don't want to lose your friendship, Bella. It means too much to me."

Friendship, platonic love; that cruel word that was destined to shape my relationship with Edward forever.

Fuck me with a vibrator. . .

I had to get off the phone post haste, but then again, I knew any emotion in my voice could be easily explained by the clusterfuck—pun intended—of the sex we'd had earlier.

After exchanging a time and place to meet the next day, we said our goodbyes, but the instant I hung up the phone, I sent him a text message:

 **FML.**

Again, I wasn't sure if it was subconscious, or Celeste channeling her hissy fit through me.

He replied almost immediately:

 **One thing at a time, honey.**

* * *

 **A/N: let me know your thoughts and I'll see you next week.  
MWAH xoxo**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A bit of trivia. The reason I wrote this fic was to cure my fear of writing lemons. You'll understand a few chapters ahead ;-)**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 **Closer to the Edge**

I didn't get much sleep that night. It was a habit of mine to lay awake after sex with He Man, Moron of the Universe, feeling plagued and empty. After all, who could feel whole while subjecting themselves to the perversions of a beefed-up imbecile with the emotional maturity of Barney the Dinosaur?

Jake's two priorities for an effective night of sex did not include me. Aside from getting himself off, his other objective was to sneak in a quick workout. No point in passing up a good butt clench and bicep curl, because what else was there to life other than sex, football and workouts?

Needless to say, after being used as an apparatus for weight resistance training by Jake, there was nothing left for me to do but wonder how in this universe had I succumbed to being little more than a walking pocket pussy-slash-dumbbell.

Eventually, anesthetizing myself on orgasms with Jake, soon gave way to fantasizing that Jake was Edward in order to achieve one. But when the idea of Edward moaning out, "give it to me momma" repeatedly seemed like blasphemy, my only alternative was sneaking in a quick pelvic floor exercise.

After all, why pass up a good opportunity to workout?

During the end of our sexual relationship, I doubt sleep would have been possible, anyway. If I wasn't suffering from chronic trauma-related eye twitching, I was plummeting into the depths of self-loathing over the fact that I was fucking an imbecile, so I could mind fuck his best friend.

In the end, all that was fucked was my life, and my friendship with Edward—that wasn't really a friendship more than it was the result of my wanton delusions and fantasies.

Was it any wonder Celeste had staged a successful takeover of my reason?

I also suspected she was smarter than me. . .

When I'd told Edward he was my consolation, I wasn't altogether lying; he was. It wasn't _all_ he was, but since I couldn't have him in the way I wanted him, I had settled for second prize and his friendship. A friendship he had told me tonight he didn't want to lose; a friendship that would damage me further the longer I stayed in it.

These demons alone were enough to keep me awake, but add to that my complete bewilderment over Edward's brutal reaction to me tonight and there was no chance I'd be able to shut off my mind.

Rose's theory was that he was confused, which quickly made him pissed off. According to her, Edward was just as much in love with me as I was with him, and that I'd asked him to fuck me to help emotionally detach myself from Jake had traumatized him. But then Rose's reference to guys barely went beyond them being little boys who needed a good " _once over"_ from time to time.

Her definition of a _once over_ usually involved explicit details and descriptive adjectives rarely found outside of erotica novels.

And I thought Celeste was a whore!

I suppose it was plausible that I'd traumatized Edward, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. Edward did feel something for me, but to the same depth as _I_ did? It'd be too dangerous to let myself believe it.

If he did love me, why hadn't his words been " _I don't want to lose you"_ instead of _"I don't want to lose your friendship"?_

Friendship, platonic . . . the friend zone; I really hated those words. They were becoming more of a torture than the time my father—in continued denial—forced me to attend the Forks Purity Ball when I was at the height of my Red Sea parting Celeste phase. My presence had caused a senior member of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club to faint into the punch bowl; which consequently resulted in my being escorted out—to the whispered aspersions of my wanton ungodliness. In my defense, the hostess _did_ make me stand up and make a virginity pledge.

But I digress. . .

If friendship was all Edward honestly felt for me, it wouldn't be enough to stop the melodrama that would be my heartbreak. Heartbreak I deserved for being a national disgrace to my gender over the fact that I'd once enjoyed the image of Jake—through his ceiling mirror—clenching his butt cheeks. Even worse than that; I'd also masturbated to the image of it.

Was it any wonder that even Celeste had hauled ass and went on hiatus?

If all that wasn't enough to keep me awake, there was another reason I couldn't sleep; one which had the potential to keep me up for the next decade.

It was the realization that—despite the heartache that had gone with it—I'd actually had sex with Edward. Rough, emotionally charged sex that had left me coursing with so much energy I felt statically charged. I was literally twitching from the slightest contact against my skin, ready to be thrown over the edge at a moment's notice by what the memories alone were eliciting.

I was becoming so over stimulated I feared even breathing in case Rose caught on and then diffused the situation with cold water.

Over and over my mind projected back to me the events of that afternoon, and the more I processed every detail, the more I realized just how much I had got it wrong with Edward. He wasn't detached and cold as I had first thought. In fact, he was the complete opposite of detached; he was a ramrod—pun intended—of emotion. There was no indifference with him; it wasn't just about him getting laid so he could make the last quarter of the football. What Edward had expressed was obviously something that ran deep. There was a definite anger and hostility within him, but it was passionate at the same time. His eyes had burned with it; his actions and body language were a confession to it. His iron hard muscles, and determined, set jaw. . .

Oh God, Father, bless me, for I have sinned. . .

It was a good thing Roddy was running low on battery power, with all the energy I was emitting I'd probably short circuit it. I'm sure the damn thing was suicidal anyway; the moment I switched it on it made a whirring sound as if it was screaming in pain.

Bella Swan, whore and torturer of masturbation devices. There needed to be an extra clause added to the warranty for every Roddy: manufacturer will not be held responsible for use in water, or Bella Swan.

If I ever slept again, it would be a miracle.

 **. . .**

Somehow, I managed a few hours in the early morning, where my dreams became flashed projections of Edward's body pummeling repeatedly into mine. It completely changed the ambience of what had really happened; almost convincing me in the process.

When I woke up, the charge under my skin was so wanton that my entire body was covered in indecent-looking goose bumps, while my hair was a monstrosity of static electricity.

As I was staggering from my bedroom to the bathroom, Rose appeared from her room and was almost held up short.

"Good lord, girl!" she exclaimed, somehow continually managing to be incredulous at my expense.

"No 'Marlena' today, bitch face?" I grumbled, carefully avoiding all contact with the wench in case I zapped her.

"Nope, today you get a reprieve, because you're going to tell Roman your true feelings for him, right?" She cocked an eyebrow at me that hinted with reprisals if I refused to conform.

The cow had watched The Godfather more times than what was appropriate.

"I guess," I replied, trying to stave off the panic attack that I was losing all tolerance for—and in all probability would have me flying head first down the stairs by Rose's resulting huff alone.

"Honestly, Celeste, I prefer my dramas during Big Bang, not sucking the life out of me while sneaking my Coco Chanel."

Only Rose would find the drama in The Big Bang Theory, but then considering her step mother was eighteen months younger than she was and referred to her as "sweetheart", her interpretation of drama was slightly askew.

I chose a different angle.

"You totally owe me a new bottle of perfume after you threw mine out the window thinking it belonged to one of Emmett's whores. So if I scrounge some of yours, it's payback!"

"Nice evasive action, Marlena," was her sly response, before intercepting the bathroom from me.

"Freaking hell, Rose, look at me! I need the shower more than you!" I hollered, pounding on the door.

"Are you suicidal?" she yelled back over the sound of the spray; her tone doing a perfect imitation of a smirk. "With all the energy coming off you, you practically charged my vibrator from the hallway! You'll kill us both!"

Bitch!

I trudged downstairs realizing I needed caffeine more than a shower anyway.

I was waiting for the coffee to boil when the phone rang. Not in the mood for formalities of any kind, I let the machine get it and almost gave myself third degree burns when Edward's, still incredibly uncertain-sounding, voice hesitantly filled the room.

"Mother—fuck!" I burst out impulsively, hastily wiping the burning water from my singlet top while straining to hear his message.

"Bella, I was thinking that maybe we should go down to the beach or something. Do you want me to pick you up, or do you want to meet me—"

"Come and pick her up!" Rose's voice suddenly violated my reverie with Edward's husky tone while practically giving me a coronary in the process.

"Mother fuck!" I repeated, before hurling myself at the phone, without fear of life or limb, and snatched up the receiver.

"I've got it, Rose," I answered trying not to clench my teeth and sound homicidal.

"'Bout time. You knew I was in the shower. Hi, Edward."

"Hi, Rose," he replied, sounding slightly bemused.

I waited for the clicking sound signaling Rose had hung up, with flaring nostrils.

"Hey," I said a little too breathlessly when I was confident the cow had gone.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warming and turning soft.

"You want to go down to the beach?" I asked him, clearing my throat repeatedly, suddenly in the throes of flustered induced angina.

"Um, yeah—if you want to?"

"I don't mind," my voice had deepened. I sounded like a phone sex whore, and I realized that's exactly who had taken charge in lieu of my pitiful attempt at articulation. I cleared my throat violently.

"Bella?"

"Yeah."

"Were . . . were you avoiding me?"

Oh God, I was trying to smell him down the receiver.

"Why would you think that?" I asked, seriously this time.

"I tried your cell, but it rang out three times—never mind."

Christ, the insecurity reflecting in his voice was making me rabid!

"No—I put it on silent at night," I explained quickly. Otherwise I was woken up repeatedly throughout the night with Facebook updates. Usually they were Jake's running commentary of the blowjob he was getting. Maybe he forgot—again—that I could see his posts.

I had to remember to block that fucker!

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"What for?" I asked, slightly confused.

"I dunno—anyway, what time do you want me to pick you up?"

I closed my eyes; he was assaulting his hair with his fingers. . .

"Um, about an hour," the phone sex whore answered.

"Okay, I'll see you then," his tone dipped to tender.

"Bye," I breathed, before hanging up and realizing that I was embarrassingly fully charged once again.

I drifted into the kitchen to retrieve my coffee and was faced with Rose sipping hers. Though, her mug did not disguise her continued mocking expression.

 _How the hell did she get here so fast_ , I wondered, reaching for my cup.

"An hour . . . jeez, doesn't give you a lot of time in hair and makeup, Marlena."

"Mother fuck!" I burst for the third time in ten minutes, as I bolted for the stairs.

 **. . .**

Edward arrived not a minute passed sixty, and I almost fell through the door in my haste to open it before Rose.

He smiled, almost awkwardly, down at me, while his eyes were deep with continued guilt.

Of course, Celestria, dwelling within had successfully diverted my focus away from the emotional aspect of our wall romp, to the physical, and for a moment I stared up at him confused by his expression.

"Hi, are you okay—I mean, hi!" Take a breath, count to ten; drug fucking Celeste with a valium.

The corner of his lips twitched, before he broke completely into a warm smile. "I'm okay, are you?"

"Hi, Edward!" Rose spoke up from behind me with more than an obvious innuendo behind her tone.

But Edward, ever the clueless male, didn't appear to notice anything out of the ordinary, and turned his whore-inspiring smile towards her. "Hey, Rose."

"You guys have fun. I'm off to watch Days of Our Lives."

One . . . two . . . three. . .

Edward's grin grew in amusement; it was the only thing that relaxed my rapidly thinning lips. "Um, okay, well you have fun too."

"Totally! Today is the episode where Marlena tells Roman that she's been in love with him for two years."

The air completely left my lungs.

Edward's expression turned slightly puzzled. "Erm. . ."

Five . . . six. . .

Fuck this counting shit!

"Let's go, huh? I said to him, knowing I sounded slightly maniacal, before grabbing his arm and yanking him back through the door with me.

"Goodbye, Bells, and don't forget, _I LOVE YOU_!" the wench called out after us.

"Son of a WHORE!" I burst out, though luckily it coincided with me tripping up the path and stumbling forward.

Edward understood my pain induced Tourette's; he wouldn't think anything of it.

He caught me, just like he always did, wrapping his large hands around my waist and righting me. "Have a good trip?" he teased me gently.

I took a breath and calmed myself down, but then it was probably the scent of Edward's aftershave, as I inhaled it in, effectively sedating my hostility.

"Yeah," I replied with a strange, short, inebriated-sounding laugh.

With his hands remaining on my waist he turned me to fully face him. "Bella. . ." he began seriously before his forehead bridged and that vulnerability flickered behind his eyes again, "you're acting very strangely—but, but I guess you have right to. . ."

To see him continually punish himself over what had happened between us the day before, sobered me up immediately.

"I'm okay, Edward," I promised him, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. "I'm not angry over what happened yesterday. I'm largely at fault."

"I completely took advantage of you." His eyes were solemn, his brow deeply etched with remorse.

I knew it should have brought out a similar emotion in me, but all I could process was how this side of him created a fierce protectiveness within me that quickly manifested itself as desire and hunger.

Forging my bottom lip between my teeth, I forced myself not to place my hand on his cheek—and the other from ripping the buttons off his shirt.

"You didn't, Edward. Believe me," I spoke so resolutely that a little crick of confusion appeared between his eyebrows. "But let's not talk about it here," I mumbled as the familiar jittery energy of fear quickly spread through me.

He smiled at me tenderly in answer before taking my hand and leading me to his car. His brows remained fused together, and I knew that sooner or later he was going to make me explain _that one_ to him in more detail.

Celeste began a twisted bongo rendition of We Will Rock You with my heart, while I talked myself out of crying. Because being a pitiful, sappy, wanton wretch was pretty much the epitome of who I was of late.

 **. . .**

Edward drove us to the beach; the same beach where I had fallen in love with him, and the same beach where he'd saved my life.

We hadn't been back since that fateful day a little over a year ago, where I came to the realization that what I was feeling for Edward was not just filler for all of Sasquatch's short comings, but that I was in love with him wholly and completely.

Stepping out of the car, I took a long breath, feeling a little melancholy that this beach was the beginning and in all probability was going to be the end of Edward and me.

I wondered if it was symbolic, if this was his idea of taking us full circle so we could part while giving both of us a sense of closure.

What I didn't understand was why he had to tell me anything if he was leaving in a week. If he wanted an out with a minimal amount of fuss, it was right there.

My eyes drew in his direction; he was leaning into the trunk of his car, pulling out a picnic blanket. I caught a glimpse of the black waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear and felt my breath catch. Celeste was lighting candles even as I ogled him, but I didn't embrace it. He suddenly felt like a mirage; I was parched for thirst, but the moment I reached for him he was going to disappear.

He closed the trunk and turned to face me, and I only stared back at him. He gazed at me for a moment gauging me with weary eyes, before his head dropped and his hand curved around the nape of his neck.

"This is killing me, Bella," he spoke softly with his eyes focused on the ground.

"What is?" I asked without taking a breath. Celeste suddenly had a strangle-hold of my lungs, refusing me air.

His head whipped up and his burning eyes caught mine. His forehead was becoming deeply knotted—I couldn't stand seeing him like this. "You," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "standing there staring at me with those huge eyes of yours, like I _broke_ you!"

The sound of it shot out at me, sliced Celeste in two and anchored itself within my chest.

"Edward, stop worrying about me. I'm okay. You didn't break me. I swear I'm okay," I insisted passionately, but I was unable to keep the sentiment from my tone. It contradicted everything I'd said.

He took a heavy breath and severed his gaze. His entire expression was so compromised that it was making the emotion brewing within him almost tangible, and I knew he wasn't going to believe anything I said to reassure him . . . unless I explained it allto him.

All of it.

Reaching out I grabbed his hand; it was tense and tightly balled at his side. I forced my fingers into his closed palm before threading them through his.

Almost reluctantly he relaxed, before again releasing his breath into a jaded-sounding sigh; his eyes remaining locked to his feet.

"Edward, look at me," I pleaded with him. Reluctantly he did, but when his eyes met mine, they almost did to me what he'd feared he'd done the night before. The anguish he was battling with was crushing me. I would rather confess everything to him than see him continue to torture himself like this. I couldn't bear his guilt for a moment longer. "What happened last night was exactly what I needed. You did me a huge favor."

He groaned before covering his face with his hand—that was still clutching the picnic blanket. "Bella, if you tell me I helped sever your emotional ties with Jake, or whatever, I'm going to fucking puke!"

My mouth fell open, but the indignant retort on my lips died immediately. I just stood staring up at him as a hundred emotions raged through me. A part of me wanted to punch him, right in that sex-god jawline of his for being more clueless than what should have been humanly possible. But another part of me got caught up immediately by the hard edge to his tone and was instantly taken back to the night before.

Holy shit!

Was his anger connected to me and Jake—to thinking I was still in love with Jake?

The adrenalin began building within me, compromising my heart, my pulse—my rationality. I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts from the carnal direction this revelation had created, so I could analyze it further—find a flaw in it.

Could Rose have been right all along? Or did Edward just resent the fact that he believed I was using him to emotionally cut myself from Jake?

A dry, humorless half laugh erupted from me before I looked up squarely into Edward's impassioned, accusing green eyes. "Oh you severed me from Jake, Edward—I'm not going to deny it. You severed me from him a year ago when you saved my life at this very beach!"

* * *

 **A/N:** **Is she gonna spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill? Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading =)  
MWAH xoxo**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, guys, she might just spill this chapter, but then, she might not. . .**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Just Do It**

Edward's expression looked almost comical. His brows pulled closer and closer together, while his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, as he struggled to form words.

"Bella—what . . . ?" he eventually uttered, his tone thick with doubt, before he again appeared to abandon it; dragging his palm over his forehead and through his hair. Shaking his head to himself, he started over, "What does that mean?"

He'd been staring at me the whole time with such intensity to his gaze that I felt completely open and exposed. I was sure he had figured it out, and I waited with bated breath for his response; I waited for him to crush me. This was despite the fact that Celeste had stripped off in anticipation the way Rose's Sim people did by whirling in a circle and emerging out of it naked.

Though, I should have known he'd remain clueless.

My heart decided to re-enact the Philharmonica, and I suddenly felt suddenly breathless.

Fuck my life—I'd have to elaborate.

Sighing inwardly, past the exasperation, I tried to remain composed. "Edward, I have been trying to tell you, but you won't listen. I have not been in love with Jake for—shit, I can't remember the last time I felt _anything_ for him."

 _Other than the urge to projectile vomit,_ I thought to myself with accompanying urges of related aversion.

"You're serious." It was neither a question nor a statement, as he continued to gauge me with skepticism and something else that I was unable to discern; while his eyes reinforced their efforts to reach my very soul.

 _Am I serious?_ I wanted to scream.

Did he think I was making this up?

Feeling laid out, bare and vulnerable—and let's face it, slightly crazed from exacerbation—I looked away with my heart continuing to hammer in both fear and the beginnings of a psychotic episode.

"Of course I'm serious," I began, trying not to speak through gritted teeth, "—anyway are we going to go down to the beach or just stand here?"

His eyes eventually released me, and he stared down towards the shore, before nodding and turning back to me. "Come on then." He grabbed my hand and pulled me after him.

His palm was clammy, and I could feel the rate of his pulse pounding softly but swiftly through his thumb. I gazed up at his profile and noticed an expression on his face that I didn't quite recognize; he looked . . . calm and yet completely defenseless, while his entire face was practically flushing. And as I continued to watch him, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, a crick forming between his eyebrows.

The sight of it alone—of an uncertain and brooding Edward—immediately attracted Celeste's attention, but there was no way I could possibly decipher it, and I was beginning to feel more and more panicked.

I was sleep deprived, I quickly consoled with myself. I was always a pessimistic, needy sack of patheticness whenever I'd slept less than seven hours. It didn't fully explain my desire to go all out fetal, but I was happy to have some kind of explanation other than obsessing that Edward really did know that I was in love with him and was currently in the state of that same urge to puke.

I glanced around for somewhere to escape if the need aroused, and fought the urge to fake a sudden illness so Edward would take me home.

I was suddenly clinging to my oblivion the way Rose would attach herself to the remote control, in the days leading up to The Game of Thrones; less I stole the batteries for Roddy.

I didn't want to know how he felt.

Yes I did, and Celeste soon reminded me of all the rampant possibilities if by chance Edward did feel the same way as me.

Oh God . . . he was going to think I was nauseous again.

When I glanced up, I realized Edward was gazing down at me; that crick of confusion between his brows now directed at me. "You okay, Bella?"

Completely clueless yet so freaking adorable it was almost pornographic.

I felt the smile spread across my face, but I paused, fearing phone sex whore would answer instead of me. I only nodded.

"Really?" Those thick, naturally sculpted eyebrows shot high up on his forehead.

I think I melted into myself a little bit, but successfully managed to hold off the phone sex whore, because this was our thing.

"Really really," I replied.

Okay, slightly whorish, but nothing to get into a state over.

He smiled broad and affectionately, scoffing the air through his nose shortly as he did. "Dorkous," he murmured warmly, releasing my hand before he slung his whole arm around my neck.

My mind immediately fogged, becoming a haze of building erogenous activity, while Celeste began hyperventilating. I decided to just go with it and hoped what I was fighting to keep under control didn't become too outwardly obvious.

Besides, Edward was always a touchy feely guy; it was all platonic.

Fuck, I hated that word, but it did defuse Celeste's enthusiasm effective immediately, while the need to go fetal again entered my subconscious.

"You're not still hung over are you, Bella?" Edward asked.

Fuck my life.

There was surely no hope for me if the guy I was desperately in love with kept mistaking my whorish infatuation for him as queasiness.

"Why would you think that?" I asked. I'd contemplated using a hostile tone, but was beaten into submission by the offensive of Edward's all-consuming gaze.

His lips twitched—forever finding amusement in my wanton desire-slash-faux seediness. "You look a little green around the gills."

Well why not? Green is the color of choice for all rampantly horny women.

Men. . .

"I'm not drunk, nor am I horny—FUCK!" I burst.

His lips twitched again before pulling into a broad, toothy grin that he quickly exhaled past.

Wait . . . what did I just say?

"Okay . . . I'm glad we've established that."

"Hung over— _hung over_ , I mean . . ." Unconvincing, lame. . .

Bitch Celeste—this was all her conniving. It seemed I was going to have to fuck Edward a lot more to silence the wanton hussy.

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

"It wasn't Freudian was it, Bella? If you ask me to screw you again, I might agree. I have some serious redemption I need to tackle."

 _Oh, Jesus. . ._

Celeste began to breathe so indecently that it threatened to snap the elastic in my underwear in its momentum, while I think I began to swoon.

I didn't look at him; there was no way I could without immediately taking him up on his offer. Or if Celeste had her way, jump his bones then and there for some sand-in-the-hoohah sex on the beach.

I felt him tense against me, and heard him exhale heavily. His left hand was just running forward through his hair when I gazed up at him. His expression was vulnerable and insecure again.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Edward, stop being so needy," I teased him, my voice too gentle.

"You kind of went pale when I said that—I know it's awkward as fuck." Another drawn out breath before he dragged those long rigid fingers through his hair again and my complexion threatened to turn albino.

There was just something irresistibly erotic about a school teacher using the "F" word. Or maybe I've just been a covert whore since nursery school.

While Celeste internally cajoled me into telling him that it wasn't so awkward that we couldn't go another round, Edward released his arm from around my shoulders.

"Come on," he spoke softly, and I didn't quite understand the context in which he'd said it.

Was he saying it to himself, or to me?

Grabbing the picnic blanket from over his shoulder, he spread it out on a patch of dry sand before us. It was around about the same area where we used to sit and watch Sasquatch try not to drown himself with the weight of his ego.

"Huh?" I eventually vocalized my confusion.

He flashed me that dorky, adorable smile of his. Five percent charming, five percent goofy and ninety percent fuck hot irresistible with telekinetic underwear compromising capabilities. The same smile that made my internal, best friend stealing whore set up shop in my libido and drive me near insane with concentrated amounts of lust and desire ever since.

"Just, come here," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down on the blanket beside him.

I pulled my knees to my chest subconsciously, took a monumental breath then turned to him and spoke quickly before my voice failed me, "Edward, why . . . why were you so angry with me last night?"

Fucked me near into a coma, was closer to the truth—something I found I wasn't so adverse to now; after I'd allowed Celeste to analyze it further.

"Yeah . . . I want to talk about that," he admitted, wiping my hair from his face from where the sea breeze had swept it. His eyes dipped down at his hands for a moment, and he took another heavy breath before he looked up and caught my gaze. "What the hell happened between us last night, Bella? Why—why on earth did you ask me . . . what you did?" His eyes darkened as they surveyed mine, his brow furrowing rigidly above them.

How the hell was I going to get out of this one?

Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I broke his gaze; though, it didn't release me from the intensity of his eyes. I could feel them on me, boring into me; trying to read the contents of my soul. My heart hammered in tune with Celeste and her soloist maraca performance, and I couldn't deny the effect this conversation was having on me—wantonly.

"Why did you accept?" I asked with a small voice, feeling my chest begin to go tight, but at this point, I couldn't decide whether it was from fear or anticipation.

His grin twitched askew, and again he glanced down for a moment, before he turned those piercing eyes on me. "No answering questions with questions, you."

I broke into an abashed grin. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Bella—lately, I just can't work you out. I can't read you, at all. Will you just tell me what the hell's going on?" he asked, his eyes continuing to canvass mine, searching.

I couldn't break his gaze; his eyes were holding me captive, while his expression turned beseeching and sedate. "Nothing has changed with me, Edward. I feel the same as I always have."

It wasn't a lie. Only I was a coward—and a whore, but that was a given.

"And what's that, Bella—what do you feel?" His tone sounded slightly impatient, or maybe he was offended, I wasn't sure. He reached up and heavily massaged his bridged forehead.

"What do _you_ feel?" I asked with a small, timid voice, trying to ward off the most progressive case of hives I'd ever had in my life.

"You're killing me here, Bella." His tone softened a fraction, but his eyes began to reflect that intense vulnerability again.

My heart swelled and a suffocating feeling began to form in my throat. Could I just come right out and tell him what he meant to me? "Why were you so angry last night, Edward?" Was the repeated angle I went with.

He didn't answer; he just sat gauging me, while his expression definitely began reflecting impatience.

"What?" I asked, feeling my heart rate pick up a notch, but this time out of increasing stress and anxiety. I was on the top of the cliff and I had to jump. Either I jumped or Celeste—or Rose—would push me.

"Stop playing games, Bella." He was definitely pissed off, and despite the nervous energy it released in the pit of my stomach, Celeste related it to his demeanor the night before and began switching on my erogenous zones, one by one.

Flick, flick, flick. . .

"I'm not playing games, Edward!" I replied indignantly; as well as slightly flustered and distracted by the way his jaw was clenching as he spoke.

"Why the hell can't you answer?" he put it to me, becoming more curious than he was annoyed.

"I don't know why!" I burst with building frustration, suddenly breaking his gaze. His eyes were penetrating and pleading at the same time; completely compromising me.

"You don't know why you can't answer, or you don't know why you asked me to fuck you?" he questioned me, with a trace amount of patronization that immediately pissed me off.

My head snapped immediately back to his. "Stop giving me the fucking third degree over this, Edward—besides, you were supposed to be telling me something, so _what THE FUCK is it_?"

With his arm draped over his knee, he brought his palm up and dropped his head into it. For a moment he only rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm, laboriously before releasing his breath into a frustrated sounding sigh. "Bella—fucking hell," he looked up at me as his tone grew in volume and exasperation. "I just want to know why you wanted me to—fuck you! Is that so hard to answer?"

"I didn't want you to _fuck_ me—I never wanted that!" I fired back, but quickly found myself becoming emotional.

"Well, what the hell did you want from me!?" he was practically yelling now, and his eyes were burning below his deeply etched brow.

I opened my mouth to reply but I had no words.

 _Tell him, tell him—TELL HIM!_

"Bella, please . . . just tell me. . ." He dropped his head, sounding defeated this time, and for a third time, ran his hand through his hair; an outward validation of it.

Tears formed behind my eyes, threatening to unleash on me. I fought them off stubbornly, but the building pressure caused my head—my chest—my _heart_ to ache.

It all came down to this. For more than a year I had mind fucked Edward through the euphemism of my raging inner whore, but I'd overstepped the boundary. I'd forced reality to intervene.

I had to tell him; I owed him that.

I looked up at him and the moment my eyes locked with the darkened and uncertain depths of his, my resistance to the tears crumbled. "I-I wanted you to make love to me," I confessed.

Still not enough, and Celeste started packing her bags in a huff. But damn it, if he felt anything for me he had to cough it up as well. I wasn't doing this alone.

His eyes softened and for a moment they flickered and lingered on my lips, before they again locked to mine. "But you didn't ask me that, Bella." He reached out and grabbed my hand, gently.

"I guess, I thought—I don't know what I thought. . ."

 _SLAM!_

Celeste had left.

He broke into an affectionate, tender smile. "Did you want me to be something that Jake never was?"

"No!" I cried, horrified, repulsed! "It wasn't about Jake—you are _not_ an extension of Jake to me, Edward!" I stated with impassioned conviction, completely repelled that he thought otherwise.

With his other hand he reached out and carefully wiped my windswept hair behind my shoulder. "Then, what am I . . . Bella?"

Fuck me into a coma! So be it.

Taking a wavering breath in, I completely unlocked my heart.

"You're the love of my life."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading. Leave me some love, some lukewarm niceness, or flaming hate. Or lurk, lurk, lurk. You know your poison. It's all good.  
MWAH xoxo**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, I've dragged this shit out long enough. . .**

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And if we take the time to lay it on the line  
I could rest my head just knowin' that you were mine, all mine  
So if you want to love me then darlin' don't refrain  
Or I'll just end up walkin' in the cold November rain

 **November Rain - Guns N Roses**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 **November Rain**

 **Previously. . .**

 ** _With his other hand he reached out and carefully wiped my windswept hair behind my shoulder. "Then, what am I . . . Bella?"_**

 ** _Fuck me into a coma! So be it._**

 ** _Taking a wavering breath in, I completely unlocked my heart._**

 ** _"You're the love of my life_** **,** and the thought of you _not_ in my life any more is _unimaginable_ ," I elaborated, fighting off the emotion and increasing anxiety as the impact of my confession slowly reflected in Edward's expression.

It was followed by silence.

It must have lasted three seconds as Edward's face transformed completely into surprise. He looked emotionally charged, but the primary factor of his expression was definitely shock.

It was only a few breathless, horrifying seconds where, in the absent of Celeste, I was virtually unprotected from the threat of brutal reality and rejection; it felt like an eternity.

My heart was waging a campaign to explode through my chest, while at the same time it attempted to smother me to death. I didn't take a breath—I couldn't; I just waited, feeling completely bare and vulnerable, for Edward to crush me.

In the next second his face began to soften, and in the next a crick formed between his brows.

Still, I couldn't breathe; I just watched the battle between disbelief and acceptance play out across his face.

I also realized that Celeste, who was always simmering below the surface manipulating me through my wanton desires, had completely abandoned me. I'd grown so accustomed to her distractions that I didn't know how much I missed them until right at this moment; when I had nothing to protect me from Edward's bi-polar facial expressions or what was inevitably behind them.

Then, just when I was about to keel over from a total cardiac related neurosis, Edward broke the silence, "Are—"

That's as far as he got before, feeling like I was on the verge of a mentally deranged episode, I cut him off, " _Am I serious?! ARE YOU GOING TO ASK ME IF I'M SERIOUS, EDWARD? Do you value you're balls? BECAUSE IF YOU ASK ME IF I'M SERIOUS, I'M GONNA RIP THEM OFF_!"

Clearly I'd lost the plot.

After five seconds of confessing to Edward that I was in love with him, I had become completely certifiable, and it was clear that my inner whore had divorced my libido.

And then he smiled. "Bella . . . honey, take a deep breath and calm down." His voice was tender—the same tone he'd used when I was in the middle of chronic, pain related Tourette's while I was having oysters pulled from my back. It soothed me immediately; making me feel almost drunk and mellow. "Are you calm?"

I nodded. "I'm calm."

I was almost certain the phone sex whore was going to answer, but it was only me. Completely unprotected from the biblical sea parting whore, me.

His smile broadened; it was honest and warm, partially showing his teeth and—

Oh Jesus. . .

"Can we just back it up slightly, because this is kind of a huge thing for me to take in—just like that." His tone remained gentle and responsive, while his hand that still grasped mine pulled me gently toward him.

"What do you want me to say, Edward?" I asked him, feeling resigned as I began to come down from the adrenalin.

He kept his intense, pensive gaze fixed to my face the entire time. I was completely naked and had no way of concealing myself—and without Celeste's influence I also had no way of turning it into a sexually explicit distraction to save myself the torture of it.

"Just . . ." his voice caught at the back of his throat, "just . . . say it again." His expression had completely transformed, and as he stared at me, his eyes continuing to search the depths of mine, he suddenly appeared as vulnerable and afflicted as I was.

"No," I replied, my voice beginning to quiver, "it's your turn."

His mouth tugged to the right for a moment, before it fell and his expression turned sedate again. "Just listen to me for a moment, Bella, okay?"

Oh god . . . he didn't feel the same way!

I nodded, taking a wavering breath in. Almost immediately my brow began to ache with the threat of tears, and before I could prevent them, they brimmed and slipped silently down my face.

Despite Celeste being AWOL, I was sure I could hear that bitch's laughter from within. Or maybe it was my pulse pushing the heartbreak straight to my chest.

Crap. I knew it. . .

Bringing both his palms to cup my face, he gently wiped my tears away with his thumbs. "Bella . . ." he whispered.

"No," I broke in, my voice a pitiful, breathless half sob. I could feel myself completely crumbling; my chest burned as I tried to combat the tears, but I was losing.

I couldn't hear him say it. . .

With his hands continuing to cup my face, he drew me closer to him, almost resting his forehead against mine as he did. "Just listen, Bella. . ." he pulled back a fraction to fully meet my gaze; his brow creasing as if what he was about to say would hurt him.

I closed my eyes, unable to bear it a moment longer; I couldn't look into his eyes as he rejected me.

And then, with a raw softness to his voice, he said it, "I have loved you since the first _moment_ I laid eyes on you."

My eyes snapped open just as my breath completely left me—

*Thud*

And where ever Celeste was, I think she just croaked.

All I could do was blink, and all I could see were Edward's eyes, burning green and beseeching, finally reaching my soul; finally seeing me.

Oh oh. . .

"R-really?" I asked sounding so pathetically hopeful and needy that my voice almost completely failed me.

He broke into a warm, charming grin, his face dipping closer to mine. "Really, re. . ." he murmured, but it was left unspoken as his mouth closed slowly over mine.

I was in shock, and even as Edward's warm, supple lips pressed gently against mine, I remained in shock. Even when those lips parted and began to grow torrid.

So, I just surrendered and let him kiss me, while my mind raced to catch up; Edward Cullen, most adorable, dorkousy, sexiest man in existence, and the complete love of my life, loved me too. . .

Rose was right—oh Jesus! There'd be no living with her now.

We could have sex, make love, make more love, and fuck, screw and copulate until we either killed each other or got evicted for noise violations! Oh god, I could devour Edward, body and soul in ways that Celeste and I had only rampantly imagined—and played out with my small, electrical erotica.

Every part of him. . .

This is when the epiphany—and my maxed-out libido—finally came crashing down on me.

He loved me!

I think I fainted, asphyxiated, died, went to heaven, and orgasmed repeatedly before my emotions quite literally poured out of me.

I might have burst into tears, but it was so hard to tell when all I could think, feel, breathe and taste was Edward. Edward against my skin, beneath my fingers; on my lips. His hot breath flooding out against my face; his hands, gentle yet determined, shyly connecting with my bare skin, his mouth taking me deeper and deeper into him.

Oh God, have mercy. . .

I, Bella Swan, whore since birth, most likely to contract The Clap, torturer of masturbation devices, and wrecker of lifelong friendships was going to –

And then I began to choke.

Because I was a monumental lunatic, somewhere along the way of having Edward's hot, salty taste in my mouth, while one of his hands slipped into the waist band of my jeans, I forgot to breathe, and as my body reacted impulsively in panic, I inhaled my own saliva into my lungs.

Or maybe it was Edward's. . .

Either way, feeling my face turn purple, I swooned in his arms.

"Bella, breathe!" I heard his slightly panicked, yet tenderly amused voice, through a shroud of near—albeit wanton—unconsciousness.

As I coughed and splattered through huge lungfuls of air, I began acting purely on impulse. Rising up on my knees, I wrapped my arms around Edward's neck, pulling him close to me.

"Breathe . . . baby. . ." he whispered with hooded, penetrating eyes before I took his lips between mine, as both lucid thought and a raging surge of desire suddenly took hold of my psyche.

It was all me—no Celeste, just me! Every one of my senses was fully charged and overloaded, and every pore in my body was craving him.

It was full steam ahead, while the blood in my veins fought to keep up with the demand of the heated and rapidly swelling wanton parts of me. My skin, my lips; my uterus—as it threw open its doors and announced a house party; and my still tender and healing girly bits that were currently convalescing after the ravishing at the hands of Edward's—now very boldly present, and implacably hard—counterpart.

All Edward, all mine.

I was now Celeste incarnate, so fuck it; I was just going to run with it!

As I began tugging at Edward's t-shirt—feeling his flinching stomach muscles beneath my fingertips—awkward, sand-in-the-ass sex didn't enter my consciousness; either did the possibility of having spectators. I was off my gourd, filled to the brim, full of insatiable desire, horny.

Edward severed his burning hot lips from mine—making that pulling apart, pliable tender skin severing sound that almost pushed me over the edge—and rested his brow against mine as he fought to catch his breath. He took my hands in his, preventing me from stripping him naked in a very public beach, with—oh crap—old people strolling along the shore.

I was on the verge of surpassing Rose in public displays of distaste.

His eyes were closed, and as he battled to regain his breath, a goofy, drunken smile curved on his lips. "We need . . . to take this down a notch, honey."

Well, was I a wanton whore, or was I a wanton whore?

"No, we don't," I murmured breathlessly—and whorishly—against his searing skin, before taking those oh so soft and heavenly luscious lips of his between mine.

A muffled sounding groan reverberated from his throat, and seemingly caught between the desire to continue kissing me and communicating, he attempted both. "Be-lla . . . oh . . . Jesus, we . . . we . . . need. . ." It became too drowned out to clarify after this, and was nothing but deep, carnal sounding mumblings against my mouth.

I hummed out my reply as it merged with my building, vocal desire, and pressed myself, further molding myself, against his tense and ignited body.

He separated our lips again—again making that sound—while I was on the verge of all coherent collapse.

I felt his breath bathe my face in his hot, musky scent before his lips pressed heatedly to my forehead, then my cheek as he calmed. He was trembling. "Bella . . . we are going . . . to make a huge effort to make it back to my place . . . okay?"

Relying solely on my senses, I closed my eyes and sucked in my lips, savoring his taste on them, and swaying slightly. I was all impulses, and ridiculously culminating desire and hunger.

"Okay. . ." was my breathy reply, that existed somewhere between sighing and moaning, before I placed my hand on his cheek; realizing that I was coursing with so much charged energy that I wasn't just merely shaking, I was vibrating.

Or maybe it was all those lonely nights alone with Roddy finally having a lasting side-effect on me.

Either way, I was pretty sure I had no idea what I had just answered in response to.

Edward pulled me sluggishly to my feet. I was close to a sensory-overloaded coma, and was now acting on auto pilot. I felt as if I was half asleep; my movements felt delayed and the only sound I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears, while my skin was literally alive and buzzing.

Edward turned to me and began both brushing sand from my clothes while attempting to put me back into a civilized order. I only continued to sway, totally drunk on him.

"Bella . . . you've broken out into hives a—" he cut the sentence short as recognition suddenly sparked in his eyes, before breaking into a huge, partially sheepish, grin.

I nodded slowly in emphasis and flashed him a knowing smirk.

"You never had hives. . ." he stated, more or less to himself before he chuckled softly and ran his hand from the nape of his neck, forward; messing his already impossibly disheveled hair.

I grabbed both his hands and stepped closer to him, getting almost a crick in my neck as I gazed up at him. "Unless hives also means, _'you make me so hot my body explodes'_ , then no," I replied with a soft and deliberately provocative tone, smiling up at him coyly.

He closed his eyes and half groaned, half scoffed to himself then bent down and pulled me flush against him. "How did I not see it?" he mused, releasing his breath fully and burying his face into the top of my head.

Stretching up on my toes, I pressed my nose and lips against the base of his throat and inhaled him in deeply. I could feel his pulse, hard and fast against my face, while I took a moment to collect myself.

Then suddenly in one clear and present moment, the enormity of what was happening hit me—almost knocking the air from my lungs. I began to tremble, then quake as I fought a sudden onslaught of emotion.

I inhaled sharply into one sob after another; over and over; repeatedly.

Taking my upper arms, Edward pulled me back and gazed down at me with alarm widening his eyes. "Bella—honey, what is it?"

I tried to talk, but it came out as incoherent and nonsensical; I shook my head trying to focus and calm myself before squeezing my eyes shut, as my body continued to be wracked by one crippling sob after another.

This was a whole lot of emotion to come to terms with and process. I had talked myself out of this reality from ever being possible, and now the sheer relief that it was actually happening was completely inundating me. It was almost too much to bear.

"Bella . . . talk to me?" I couldn't see him but I heard the uneasiness in his tone, and felt his gentle hands wiping both my hair and tears from my face.

I opened my eyes; his face was a wavering abstract before me. "I-I have . . . I have l-loved you—I have _always_ loved you," my voice rose and broke with the sentiment of my words. "I just . . . I just never thought. . ."

Through my tears I saw his smile turn affectionate and tender, before he pulled me tightly against his chest. And stretching myself up against him, I curled my arms around his neck, burying my face into that soft pulsating part of his throat again. I allowed my sobs to fade until the pulling of desire began to push through to the forefront of my emotions again.

"I know what you mean, honey," he said, his voice becoming muffled as he planted a kiss on top of my head. "I'd cry as well, only it might make me look a bit girly." His voice deepened teasingly, before he chuckled shortly to himself.

Always laughing at me—even now.

I nudged him, about to appropriately respond, when without warning—in true Forks spirit—the heavens opened up above us.

Edward grabbed the picnic blanket, and using it to shelter the two of us, we made a run for it to his Volvo, just over the sand bank. It was a lost cause though, because by the time we reached his car we were both dripping wet, mud splattered and out of breath; the picnic rug having been long abandoned in our haste.

The cool stinging drops of water did nothing to calm the swelling sea of desire within me; in fact, it immediately heightened every one of my senses to maximum capacity. My skin began tingling as the rain washed over me, re-igniting the fire within me.

With my chest heaving from exhaustion, my eyes fixed themselves to Edward and absorbed every inch of him before me. The way the rain had matted his hair to his scalp; the way it ran down his face, chest and abdomen, plastering his t-shirt to him like a second skin; and the way his stomach muscles contracted with each heavy breath that he took.

And the way I was on the verge of imploding from chronically insatiated horniness that was so severe I was sure a clinical term of it had to exist.

Acute dysfunctional clitoral fatigue.

Whatever it was called I was in stage four, and therefore could not be held responsible when I all but lunged at Edward.

The only thing was, Edward—who was obviously suffering from a related condition—intercepted me. Pulling me hungrily to his mouth, he swung me around so that I landed on the hood of his car, with my legs in a stranglehold around his hips.

As our mouths and lips mashed together hungrily, the rain somehow managed to slip between us. It was wet, and slippery, awkward and—oh god, wet! I felt it cool on my tongue, and simmering against Edward's face; an embodiment of the two of us. And the rain, as it continued to unleash down on us, did little to quell the blaze that connected me and him.

"Pork her, dude—ALL RIGHT!" A kid's voice yelled out with great enjoyment from somewhere behind us; it was the only thing which eventually parted us.

Slowly Edward pulled our mouths apart, only a fraction, before he turned his head in the direction of the smutty little ass. My lips and nose grazed across his cheek as he moved, and I closed my eyes trying desperately to pull myself back from my present state of indecency.

But the minute I opened my eyes, it was all I could do to not lick the water as it ran in streams down his face, dripping from his neck and jaw.

"MR. CULLEN—SIR?" the kid exclaimed in full surprise and amusement; which effectively distinguished the fire within me in that split second.

"Ah . . . crap," Edward turned his face back to me, resting it against mine for a moment.

Cock blocking little fucker!

But then it wasn't as if Edward really was going to _pork me_ on top of his car, out in the elements, in the rain; with our clothes cemented to our bodies; and with every one of his abs bulging through his rain soaked shirt; with something else bulging. . .

Oh God, help me.

I inhaled my pornographic thoughts in and tried to bury them—for the meantime, before placing my hand against Edward's burning cheek, just as he snorted out and muffled an eruption of soft laughter.

"You're drenched, Miss Swan," he murmured, pulling back only enough to place a tender, lingering kiss on my cheek.

I turned my face, replacing my cheek with my lips, kissing him back.

And just like that, the rain stopped.

Gingerly helping me down from the hood of his car and prizing my legs from around him, Edward place me back on my feet.

"That kid just got an easy A," he mumbled good-naturedly, pressing his lips to my forehead before he completely released me.

The chill suddenly hit me; my skin began burning through the tingling that still lingered. I folded my arms across my chest—and my diamond hard nipples that were on full display for Edward to ogle—as I waited for him to unlock his car.

After opening the door for me, I slipped inside, eager for the warmth—and ravenously impatient to get back to Edward's apartment—and hastily wrapped the seatbelt around me.

He slipped into the driver's seat, turned and flashed me a warm and affectionate grin—tipping my chin gently with his fingers as he did—before starting the engine.

I watched him drive, unable to tear my gaze from him, and quickly realized that it was all Edward could do not to smile. And whether that smile was open, to himself, or twitching lightly on his lips, it pushed me passed all reason.

Without a second thought, I leaned over to him, curved my palm around the far side of his cheek and slowly began placing delicate and supple kisses from his temple to his jawline. "Are you going to give me a detention, Mr. Cullen?" I murmured, between savoring the taste of his skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a low groan reverberating against my lips as I kissed him, before it became audible. "Honey, at the moment, I just want to get us home in one piece." His voice was husky and affected, but behind his words was dependable, responsible Edward, adorkable guy, oblivious to his own self-sex appeal, and currently pushing me beyond all boundaries of self-control as he sat rain soaked while trying to concentrate on the road.

He turned his head quickly to catch my lips, before resigned, I sat back in my seat with a huge lustful sigh.

Changing gears, he placed his hand on my knee for a second before back to the stick. "Hold tight for a moment, baby."

 _Baby. . ._

I'd never been called "baby" before—not even when I was a baby, I was pretty sure.

I gazed out the window impatiently for a few more minutes, before I decided to distract myself with my iPhone. With a goofy grin forming on my lips, the idea came to me to fill in Rose.

 **You were right** , **bitchface,** I carefully typed out over the swift movement of Edward's car, while the grin on my face began bordering lunacy.

Rose answered not 60 seconds later: **I think we'll file that one away in the no shit, Sherlock file, Marlena.**

* * *

 **A/N: You know that naughtiness described in the summary. . .  
Thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts. Good or bad, I'm always cool about it.  
MWAH til next week. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I love you all.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **For Just a Moment**

I recall getting from the car to the stairs of Edward's apartment, and I remember Edward throwing me over his shoulder as he carried me up.

Okay, I might have told him, just after exiting the car, that when he'd thrown me over his shoulder the day before during my hissy fit by the side of the road, it had made me so rabid I'd almost suffocated from it.

So, of course, that's exactly what he did, as soon as we entered his building.

Our bodies had practically molded together, considering how soaking wet we still were, but at the same time, I could still feel the warmth of his skin and his rigid muscles through the wet layers of clothes, as he carried me.

There was a buzzing in my skin. It went beyond tingling to a sort of undercurrent, which I was sure was the result of Celeste amalgamating officially with all of my erogenous zones.

I was Celeste, she was me; we were one.

All right, I was always Celeste, really, but I just couldn't act on any of the urges created to fill the bottomless void of my whorish lust for Edward.

Until now.

God Almighty.

Afterward my head got slightly hazy for a while. With the epiphany of all the possibilities—that I used to enact alone with my suicidal rod of pleasure—sinking into my tenuous psychology, a barely muffled, wanton-filled moan left my lips. Over Edward's shoulder, as I gripped his t-shirt, hanging midway down his back, my palms began to grow sweaty, and my body began to tremor as the reality probed deeper and deeper. . .

I tried to smother the fact that I was on the verge of lewdly hyperventilating.

Oh, Edward, my Edward. . .

The pair of us giggled like school girls—it was either giggle or moan wantonly—as he attempted to unlock the door to his apartment. Eventually, he lost his hold of me, and just as he got the door open we both fell through it.

In the next moment we were tangled together and rolling around the floor; a pair of steaming hot, damp bodies intertwining.

As our laughter died down, as well as a heated moment that threatened to get away from us, Edward gingerly got the two of us to our feet, placing his torrid hot lips to my brow. He was trembling too, accentuated by the blaze ignited beneath his skin. "I'll get you a towel, Bella," he spoke as a caress against my forehead; his voice a soft and husky murmur.

He took a step away from me, out stretching our connected hands that I refused to sever. Turning back, he met my gaze and arched his brow in a teasing way, his grin turning charming and askew. "No towel?"

"No towel," I echoed, my tone fully embracing the phone sex whore, as I tugged his hand gently toward me.

He didn't need any further encouragement. In one movement, he took me in his arms, cupped his free hand to my face, tilting it upwards to his six feet one height, and let those luscious, heated lips completely enslave me.

I swooned, melting fully against his burning hot chest beneath the damp material of his shirt. I almost definitely forgot to breathe, while I'm sure I did something beyond cliché, like pop my foot. I felt Edward's heart reverberate against my charged and super sensitive skin, syncing with my own that threatened an arousal encumbered migraine as it pounded at my temple.

Yet, all my senses could process were those burning, supple lips connecting with mine, slowly, ever so slowly unraveling me; bringing me apart.

And still, there was no Celeste to play the bongos with my heart, or to tweak my super sensitive erogenous button in my—presently overtaxed—girlie region. No Celeste to encourage over salacious responses from something benign as Edward clearing his throat. No Celeste to leave me in a permanent state of static desire and impulses.

No Celeste at all.

Was there ever a Celeste?

Edward wanted me wholly and physically; Edward loved me, and I Bella Swan, exorcised from one deranged, pseudo personality disorder, was in complete control.

Edward loved me?

"Mother fuck," I mumbled out—inadvertently aloud—against the moist suppleness of Edward's lips, completely releasing my breath in a state of inundated relief.

"What's that, honey?" he replied breathlessly, parting our lips fractionally to speak, and flooding me with his breath.

I glanced up into the searing depths of his eyes and completely lost my train of thought. But letting it go, I leaned toward him again, grinning like a lunatic, and feeling completely drunk, and giddy, before closing my eyes slowly; becoming enshrouded again in his body heat.

The last thing I saw before Edward's mouth once again closed over mine was his grin twitching to one side, completely soaked in charm and affection. I hummed out a rather delirious sounding sigh that soon became lost in the flood of energy that quickly surpassed all my rational thought.

Well, let's face it, I was never really rational to begin with.

He kissed me with total abandonment; deeply and heatedly—and with a sense of urgency—until I couldn't register a thing apart from his taste and smell. The taste and smell of his rain damp clothes, mingling with his aftershave and soap scented skin; it was enough alone to take me over the edge. In fact, I could feel myself practically asphyxiating, hyped up on a wanton desire that I had embraced with too much fervor.

Yet, the magnetism of Edward running through my veins felt tangible; I was about to come undone. Not to mention, I was beginning to breathe like I was in some twisted Lamaze class.

Was one of his hands cupping my breast?

Oh, god—not yet!

Oh, hell yes!

Oh well . . . but experience with my manic depressant electrical device told me I was still good for a few more rounds, yet.

I let it go, I came apart; unraveled; unglued; and unhinged. Fireworks burst, champagne corks popped; universes collided, and I choked, moaned, groaned, shuddered, and mumbled out half concealed indecent paraphrases. All without severing my mouth from his.

It was Edward who eventually pulled us apart. "Freaking hell, Bella. . ." he left it unspoken, but behind the intense hunger of his deep green eyes, there was a sense of incredulity.

At my blatantly whorish behavior, or because he made me come just by the power of his lips, I couldn't tell.

What could I say? I didn't have a molecule of resistance left in me. I wasn't exactly coherent anyway; I just smiled up at him, post climactic and zeroing in on those ruddy looking lips of his like the ravenous, sex starved lunatic that I was. Those same lips that inched crookedly, before his breath suddenly shot through his nose into soft laughter.

"You crack me up," he murmured, his laughter increasing, "but better you than me."

"I'm sorry. That was coming for a long time," I replied sheepishly. I was coming down and as the waves of energy left me, I entertained the idea of being self-conscious. For only the briefest of moments, you understand, because Celeste suddenly snapped back in place like an elastic band used in BDSM activities. "And I have plenty in reserve." I winked.

His grin turned seductive—almost sly.

Feeling completely and utterly intoxicated by him, I closed my eyes, only to be taken by complete surprise as his lips once again found mine, revealing to me an Edward, that up until this point, I didn't know.

Was that his tongue all . . . over. . . ?

Hello, daddy!

His tongue in my mouth, running the contours of my jaw and neck, at the base of my throat.

Oh God—I didn't have _that many_ in reserve.

Oh, Christ. . .

His iron hard form began grinding against me as he held me tighter and tighter against his feverish chest. I surrendered myself willfully, again losing myself in the sensation of him; of his mouth savoring me; devouring me.

I pushed him forwards, then was being shuffled backwards, before being pulled forward again, in one heated, clumsy movement after another.

His hands held me flush against him, while mine, acting on their own devices, found their way beneath his rapidly drying t-shirt. As they struggled to roam between the limited space of our bodies, a burst of muffled laughter suddenly burst from Edward's mouth, quickly enshrouding me in it.

He was ticklish.

"Hang on. . ." he whispered, his lips barely grazing mine as he spoke, and the aroused, hoarse tone of his voice was almost too much for my already hyper-wanton state.

He pulled his shirt over his head, as I pondered that word, "wanton", in an attempt to give myself some clarity—lest I found myself using up one of my _fallbacks_ , in a display of whorish sub-consciousness.

I often thought of that word "wanton". More than I thought the word "whore".

"Better than _platonic_ ," I spoke out loud, true to my over-sexed, maniacal self, as I pulled a now bare-chested, disheveled Edward back to me.

He heaved me off the ground, burying his face into my neck, mumbling out an unintelligible reply, before his mouth gradually moved up and reconnected with mine.

In the next moment, I found myself pressed flat against the wall with Edward pushing further against me. And for the following carefree, heated minutes, nothing registered with me, but Edward's hands, Edward's mouth—Edward's body, going deep . . . deep . . . deep. . .

There was nothing forceful about it—nothing to remind me of the day before, except the feel of the cold surface against my back.

But without warning, déjà vu hit me like a cattle train, and I immediately froze up like a virgin on prom night.

I sucked my breath in violently, as a strange, hybrid panic overtook me—considering I was still battling a raging desire.

It took Edward exactly half a second to understand.

There was nothing like the memory of a fuck against the wall to cock block possibly the best moment of my life.

Who in their right mind would have those thoughts in the literal sense—other than me?

Fuck my life.

Hell, I needed a moment to rein in Jacky "O", but for the love of God. . .

Running my hand down my face, I felt all my super charged erogenous zones pop like light bulbs, by the sheer look of guilt on Edward's face.

Guilt. . .

His brows fused together, before his eyes dropped from mine. He took a labored breath then opened his mouth, when I hastily clamped my hand over it.

"Shut up!"

His eyes snapped back to mine and along with them, some of their spark, before his expression softened and almost turned playful.

"Firstly," I began with a shaky, breathless—but no less determined—voice, "take me off the wall, and then take me to your bedroom." I removed my hand and he tentatively lifted me back into his arms. When I met his gaze again, I noticed with relief that all remnants of guilt were beginning to fade. "And secondly, if you ever mention what happened last night, with the word 'sorry', I will _make_ you sorry in ways that you will never recover from." I arched my brow to let him know how serious I was, while trying to hide my panic. Panic over possibly the best sex I would ever have, becoming a non-event.

His lips twitched, before a full blown grin broke easily across his face. "Deal," he answered softly, his forehead resting gently with mine.

"Okay," I whispered, cupping his neck and face in my palms, before closing my eyes and taking a deep discreet breath—which was made almost impossible as Edward kissed me.

In his room, he set me on my feet, then without a single word spoken, he gently peeled my damp t-shirt from me, before he angled my face to place a soft, tender, and delicate kiss on my lips.

It completely broke my heart, but the wanton part of me missed the urgent fumblings, and blazing passionate kisses, from a moment ago.

The tempo had completely changed.

As he took my parted lips between his, kissing me longer and longer, and deeper and deeper with each passing second, it had changed. As his hands ran from my face, gently over my shoulders and around my back, it had changed.

This was what I always wanted from Edward.

Wasn't it?

I didn't know whether it was from trepidation or emotion, but I was beginning to quiver; though, I wasn't cold. I was suddenly feeling vulnerable, but a part of me preferred it to all the lust and desire that had made me go almost completely out of my senses.

I knew physical desire too much in my life that it had become lopsided and unhealthy. But what Edward was making me feel with each tender kiss and attentive touch, was so far from what I had ever experienced; it made me feel so completely exposed to him.

Being a true to form basket case, my light shivering quickly turned to almost all out shuddering. This being on top of the yearning I had for him to bring Celeste out to play again.

He pulled his lips from mine, so slowly and gently that they made that pliable lip parting sound that melted my heart and ignited a fire within my loins again. I closed my eyes, stifling the moan and reaching out to grab his shirt in my fists; only to find bare skin.

I felt him flinch, which did nothing to quell the whore within, but hell I needed her loose. I needed that release.

Oh God, we needed to find a middle ground, before I literally came apart again.

"Bella . . . what's wrong? You're shaking?" he asked, wiping a strand of my hair behind my ear, and trying to angle my face so that he could look into my eyes.

Could I tell him that I desperately needed for him to make love to me, while fucking me senseless—like he had the day before?

Bella Swan: masochist, whore, lunatic and assassin of lifelong friendships. There was no salvation for me—despite being practically drowned in holy water every Sunday by the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club.

Dammit, I needed something to grip, and in the absence of his t-shirt, I reached down and grabbed the waistband of his jeans. In doing so, I disturbed the beast that lurked within, confined and bulging.

Edward immediately made a strangled, breathless utterance, and that was the beginning of the end for me.

Flick. . .

Flick. . .

Flick. . .

I was immediately charged to optimum capacity, with all systems go.

I glanced up, my eyes locking with the dark, burning depths of his, but for a moment I stood frozen, unable to blink or look away. I only stared further into his eyes, and at every feature of his face. It seemed ridiculous, but in that moment I was reminded of how much I loved him—that I was wholly and completely in love with him—as if it had slipped my mind. And then this powerful and physical yearning I was feeling was suddenly colliding directly with my heart, and with every particle of my soul that had all but given up that this very moment would ever happen.

I think I gasped, while my closed fists squeezed tighter around the denim that was locked in them.

Despite the fact that in doing this, the bulging brick in his pants pounded ferociously against the restraint I was making of them, his expression grew somber.

He had obviously picked up on my paradoxical neediness, because as I gazed at him, still maintaining my vice-like grip on the front of his button fly Levis, his forehead began to pique with concern, while the storm of desire behind his eyes calmed. "What is it, Bella?" he asked in a tender whisper.

"I want you with everything that I am, Edward," I uttered, my voice catching with emotion, only for my senses to immediately heighten and peak again. "Oh God, how I want you."

* * *

 **A/N: Short and evil—because that's pretty much the epitome of who I am :D  
MWAH and thanks for reading.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, heads up. I pretty much explain everything they're doing, but I do not write explicit descriptions or adjectives. For example: pulsating, dripping with pre-cum cock, or wet, glistening, pussy folds. I mean, fuck me, I'm cringing just thinking about it. However, there will be times when certain words will need to be used, but I found a way around that too. You'll get me ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 **A Thousand Years**

My God but Edward could kiss, but in all honesty, I began to wonder if he was aware of the term "too much of a good thing"?

Oh, but those gorgeous, supple lips took me to Hades and all seven layers of Dante's hell, creating an inferno within me. Commanding, yet tentative, both firm and gentle, and slowly, ever so slowly, conquering all resistance to the tenuous restraint I was hanging on to, and becoming endemic with every particle of me.

Well, not quite _every_ particle; he didn't venture lower than my collar bone, but he awoke every molecule that existed within me. Even in the northern most sections of me, it ignited that apex flame that spread rapidly in every direction.

Okay, I was a little more than eager, so I came again, and maybe another time after that. Though, I wasn't completely sure if the second time wasn't just an idea of a multiple taking shape, before I became embarrassingly aware of it and let go of its momentum.

It was heaven; it really was. My body was so responsive to him, that even the barest of touches could elicit the strongest reactions. I was lucky that he barely allowed the both of us to take a breath, because I really was becoming self-conscious of how rabid I was. But with his kiss, he swallowed the peak of my climax, which was further drowned out with the urgent sounds of pliable, hungry lips, connecting and merging repeatedly with each other.

And then the strangest most ironic thing happened. I started day dreaming; my mind began to skip ahead and wander.

I was getting bored—not to mention the fact that my lips were beginning to spasm!

Once upon a time I'd sit staring at his mouth believing I could kiss him forever, but seriously, Edward? _Seriously_!?

Surely he knew what came next? He knew baseball; he knew how many bases there were. He'd rounded them all the night before in a home run!

He was stuck on first base, but then he couldn't be even on first, because Rose always told me that at first base there was some kind of rack groping.

There was none!

I was actually contemplating this while, his lips, his mouth—his tongue romanced me, kept the fire kindling, held me on the edge of purgatory—while inevitably becoming monotonous.

Was he reconsidering? At some time, during the enduring enslavement of my mouth, had he suddenly come to the realization that we weren't a good idea, and was stalling?

All I knew was that this Ben Hur of a kissing marathon was exhausting me and chasing the libido completely out of me.

And then it dawned on me.

Edward was being overly conscious to be careful of me.

He wouldn't rest his body weight fully on me, when mine screamed out like a crazed banshee in the night for contact. His arms remained curled around my waist and back, holding me loosely against him, when I desperately craved his hands on every part of me. My veins were overflowing with a tidal wave of burning hot desire, my skin felt super sensitive and—oh God, I yearned to have that course jaw of his rubbing against my exposed flesh, but he was keeping it very cautious.

All this was despite the fact that Edward's skin was blazing, his muscles locked and rigid, while the Parthenon in his pants was pounding furiously against its confines. I could feel him palpitating and twitching, almost bursting as he expanded. The physical essence of him that I was beginning to lose hope of knowing again.

And believe me, I'd attempted to get those pants off him, but each time he directed my hands away; effectively distracting me as he connected those burning lips to my flesh.

I did say he could kiss, and he knew exactly what he was doing; when those lips met mine, they zombified me, until they didn't any more. . .

He was quite obviously torn and struggling. I felt it with every movement he made; he was restraining himself. It had to be torture for him, but he didn't deviate from this cautious stance with me.

While, at the most, it put my fears to rest that I wasn't in for part two of the violent wall romp that would put my hoohah in casualty, but it was beginning to test all boundaries of my self-control, my patience and my damn sanity—while threatening to have Celeste committed.

My body was beginning to scream for the final release with such desperation that I was starting to feel a little bit sociopathic.

I was so deprived of orgasmic penetration that the idea of forcing Edward to fuck me at knife point was taking shape in my mind. Because the fire was dwindling, all bases were full, and after two strikes there were no more balls.

Who the fuck thinks of baseball metaphors during foreplay?

But I was fore-played out, and ready to concede defeat. And let's face it, my lips only ever got this exhausted after a hasty blow job to keep that letch, Jake, from schlepping over me.

Fuck me into a coma—now I was thinking about Sasquatch.

The situation had just reached a critical low, and I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. But then it was so hard to tell since Edward had completely over worked my lips that they felt anesthetized.

I turned my head to the side, feeling his lusciously stubbly face drag across my cheek and ignite one last glimmer of a spark that quickly dimmed.

Closing my eyes, I untangled one of my arms out from under him, before covering my face with my splayed palm.

Oh the irony. Edward could fuck me, no problem, but when it came to making love to me, he clammed up like Celeste in a confessional.

And if he was still harboring guilt from the night before, I would almost certainly have to hurt him.

"What's the matter, honey?" he asked me gently, his heated breath soaking my skin, charging it with his musky scent. But, let's face it, after three orgasms, I was ready to do nothing more than curl up in his arms and go to sleep.

I hadn't crashed after a make out session since I was fourteen. At least then I got somewhat of a tit grope from pimply Mike-McDrooly-Newton. He had attempted to also push my girlie buttons—pun intended—when his hand got twisted in my knickers.

 _Ugh!_

And just when I thought things hadn't gone low enough. . .

What the hell was wrong with me? Edward Cullen: absolute love of my life, alpha and omega of every male that walked this earth, was in the process of being struck out, and I had Mike-drool-city-Newton in my head?

Mike Newton, who, up until sixth grade, everyone thought was a girl!

 _Oh, mother of God—shut up!_

With an inward shudder, I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips, feeling the onset of a cringe related aneurysm.

"Edward," I huffed, removing my hand to look into his eyes. They were dark and penetrating; it'd be so easy for me to become ensnared, if he'd only fucking rip off my panties, "don't you want . . . to—," I suddenly disregarded it, before in one frustrated motion, I sat up and pushed him brashly off me.

I was _not_ going to ask him to make love to me!

And what the fuck happened to my inner, lifelong friendship sabotaging, psychotically horny euphemism for all the insatiable desire I harbored for Edward?

Celeste, who could still send me to the throes of arousal, even after multiple usages of roddy—that had the fucker screeching and on the verge of short circuiting—with just an image of Edward's crooked, boyish grin flashing momentarily into my mind? Or with a projection of his deep toned voice speaking my name, with a hint of tenderness; or with the smell of him soaked into my clothes after one of our Friday nights huddled together watching spooky movies.

OK, after the latter, I was always so fully charged that it only took a sneeze to send me sky rocketing to planet Jacky O.

After all this time, were we just destined to remain pseudo friends? Platonic pseudo friends?

Fuck my life.

"Bella—what is it?" Edward asked me, with dark, confused eyes, below a rapidly creasing brow.

His face was ruddy, his lips slightly swollen and. . .

Oh god!

I discreetly pulled my bottom lip into my mouth tasting his scent, and feeling an immediate pulling in the pit of my stomach.

Oh, thank god.

I released my breath with a rush of relief, before meeting Edward's gaze again. "Edward . . . you can fuck me in a heartbeat"—his forehead immediately knotted, before his eyes flickered from mine—"but when it comes to making love. . ." I let it go, feeling my chest squeeze with an echo of panic.

Edward's gaze snapped instantly back to me and deepened. "Bella," he scoffed shortly, grinning with it, "baby, that's what I was doing."

To which I snorted in exasperation.

"Oh my God—we've been in your room for over an hour and my bra is still on!" I exclaimed.

His grin twitched in amusement that he quickly attempted to conceal as I scowled deeply at him. He always liked to laugh at me, but God only knows what he found funny about this.

I whacked him, and his grin soon merged into soft chuckling. "You're completely adorable when you're horny, Miss Swan."

Oh god, he was going Mr. School Teacher on me.

My face immediately flushed, and I bit down on my lower lip a little harder. I could feel a rapid buzzing hike in my core body temperature, and knew I was most definitely on my way back to my rampant self.

Again, only if I could turn Edward into the sexual beast I knew he could be.

When I didn't answer him, he added, taking a short breath as his expression went somber, "I just . . . I just wanted to make up—"

Fuck my life.

I immediately interjected, my voice screechy with exasperation, "Edward— _please_ tell me this isn't about last night!"

He dragged his hand back through his hair, as his sheepish, guilt tinged expression answered for him. He offered up an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, honey."

I groaned inwardly, but threw it to the wind and made it audible and slightly over exaggerated. But to hell with it, as much as my girly region was pounding in fear, I wanted Edward with every part of my being.

I just didn't want to fucking kiss him anymore.

Oh god, that was the furthest thing from the truth, but if I was being completely honest, I _did_ want an experience with him that would take the pain and confusion from the events of the night before away.

But a make-out marathon that was bordering two hours? I knew from experience I had some endurance, but it wasn't with my mouth.

"Edward, you have to let it go." I sighed, running my fingers gently down his cheek.

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, before he exhaled in an inevitable way. "Bella, I've been around you and Jake from the beginning, right?"

I felt my brow quirk, unsure of his meaning. "Right. . ."

"I witnessed him hurt you, over and over," he paused, as if to gauge my reaction. I only shook my head slightly, wondering where the hell he was going with this. He continued, "But, I have _never_ seen you more hurt than you were last night—and I didn't just hurt you; I scared you as well."

I took a heavy, resigned breath.

"That's because, Edward. . ." I paused to clear my throat hastily, feeling myself becoming choked. "That's because, I never loved Jake, like . . . I love you," I admitted in a shaky whisper, feeling a little overcome and vulnerable.

His forehead puckered with what I could only describe as pain or affliction, and just as I was contemplating a self-created melodrama over it, he broke slowly into a warm, affectionate smile.

"Jesus, Bella. . ." He sighed deeply, bringing his hand to my face, and caressing my cheek with the back of his fingers.

For a moment I only sat still, staring into the abyss of Edward's eyes; aware only of my heart as it thudded nervously behind my ribs.

I wasn't used to confessing my undying love—twice in a day.

Lord knows I never had to do it with Rambo.

It made me feel exposed, and if truth be told, the very depths of my feelings for Edward were beginning to scare me. It was so raw and intense to anything I'd ever known, and I was beginning to suspect that Edward Cullen—accidentally gorgeous and charming Edward Cullen—was most definitely going to be the end of me.

Being in love with more than just a pair of biceps and a tight ass was a whole new experience for me. It was something I couldn't fully process at all. It made me feel panicky, manic and drunk—and oh so wantonly lustful.

Of course, it was easier to go with the latter; which probably explained the pseudonym Rose had named Celeste.

I understood lust; more than I wanted to admit. After all, I had been in lust with Buffy the Beefcake long enough to feel perfectly at ease with it.

Edward continued to gaze at me, his dark eyes canvassing mine, before he slipped his palm around the nape of my neck and pulled me gently towards him. For a moment he only rested his brow with mine, releasing his breath. "What am I going to do with you?"

I scoffed quickly through my nose.

"If I have to answer that, there's no hope for us, at all," I answered wryly, before pulling back and flashing him a shrewd, seductive smile.

His grin pulled askew, full of tenderness and amusement, before his eyes zeroed in on my mouth. "You're going to kill me, Bella," he murmured, his eyes remaining locked on my lips, before he covered them with his own.

Round two.

Oh, please, God, make it be successful.

He kissed me, with a growing depth and need—have I already asserted that Edward could kiss? It wasn't just my lips, or my mouth, but everywhere he placed those goddamn supple soft lips of his. They caressed over my flesh, making me break into goose bumps—standing every hair on my body on end.

I tried not to breathe. It seemed oxygen only encouraged the further embarrassing possibility that I'd start screaming out his name—and God's—just by the seductive action of his lips brushing gently across my exposed skin.

I must confess, this time there was no boredom, and I became so completely immersed in what his mouth was doing to me, that I didn't notice when his hands slipped around my back and unclasped my bra.

It popped open flimsily, and he pulled back and gingerly—almost cautiously—slipped it from my shoulders; his fingers running the length of my arms with it.

His eyes lingered over my chest; actually, he only stared openly, voraciously, and it suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time that he had seen me— seen them. Completely seen them.

It didn't really help my self-consciousness that they tightened and turned granite hard while his eyes were locked to them.

Feeling my face begin to flush—more than just with embarrassment—I made the motion to cover myself with my arms, but Edward took my wrists, moving them clear, before he leaned in and planted his lips tenderly to my throat. Then releasing my arms, he curved his palms completely and wholly around my breasts.

I shivered—a shudder that ran the length of me—and closed my eyes; feeling his burning, hot mouth take them. Take _me_ little by little; fully into him.

I attempted to take a breath, but it only came out as a staggering, breathy moan; which, Edward immediately echoed as he continued to kiss and caress my breasts in a way that was too completely sensual and erotic for me to stay rational.

My breath got shorter; my body began to tense.

And up.

Up.

Up.

Up I went, before suddenly peaking, just as the building energy in my veins burst to life in an eruption that sucked the breath from my lungs.

My hands found their way into Edward's damp, thick hair. I gripped tightly, as the surging sensation of waves rose further still before they came crashing down on me, repeatedly; burning their way to the surface of my skin.

I was pure physical energy, and all I could comprehend was Edward's course, stubbly face, dragging across my sensitive, tingling flesh; taking me higher again, before the free-fall.

I tried to breathe, I tried to moan; I tried to cry to the heavens, God, and Edward all at once, but all that came out of my mouth was some pornographic, grunting, strangled noise that pushed the blood straight to my face and made stars streak across my closed lids.

And then all blood supply was cut off from my brain.

I came down to a mellow euphoria with that heightened, buzzing energy staying just below the surface; ready to conquer me again.

Edward's lips gently severed from my pulsating skin, and bone crushing nipples, before he gingerly and tentatively leaned me back on the bed. My arms flopped to my sides, while a goofy grin spread across my lips; a sigh escaping them.

And then he was staring into my eyes, snorting softly through his chuckling, as his hand came to cup my cheek. "What are you smiling to yourself about, Miss Swan?" he murmured before his lips pressed briefly to mine.

"Oh god. . ." I breathed when his lips released me. "I'm going to die." I ran my hand around the back of his head, grabbed a fistful of his hair again, and pulled him back to my mouth roughly.

I think this ignited that devil within him, because after this, things got a little more rushed and urgent, a whole lot of hands on, and a hell of a lot more emotionally charged.

At the back of my mind was the lingering fear that he'd suddenly abandon this course of action and become rough and indifferent with me again. Become what I knew, what I was accustomed too; what I had sold myself into. I expected his hands to become hard, his eyes to become detached, and his lips to become cold, but it didn't happen.

Every action and reaction from him was gentle and attentive, with a heated passion. And I completely abandoned all my inhibitions to him with complete trust.

At some point he took off my jeans—all while his delicate, soft lips explored and savored every inch of my skin—making that oh so delicious sound, over and over that I almost didn't notice. But once they were free from me, I could feel him more acutely—a solid mass of heat—and my senses snapped to action.

I can't say that I was as gentle with him as I ripped his pants off. I am pretty sure I scratched him numerous times; he wasn't that good at disguising the flinching, or yelping sound into my skin. But, oh fuck, I couldn't get them off fast enough.

The next thing I realized was him digging against me, burning hot, hard and commanding. As for his underwear, either he wasn't wearing any or I'd yanked them off together with his jeans.

Cautiously, I angled my face away from Edward's mouth to take a peek at what was lodging into the muscle of my thigh.

Mother of God!

My stomach squirmed with a definite release of fear!

It looked ferocious—and . . . and my girly parts were still convalescing! Only, I couldn't tell at all if the pounding in them was from desire or alarm.

God have mercy—it was both!

I had a fleeting moment of empathy towards my misemployed vibrator, before Edward's commander in chief suddenly shifted and was directly over my—

I gasped! Thankfully it was lost against Edward's shoulder, but I wasn't able to conceal the way my body tensed in reflex.

Edward's eyes met mine, shrouded with hunger, yet with a measure of concern forming behind them. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked me as he battled to contain his breath.

I nodded, probably a little too hastily and anal retentively, before he subdued me with his lips, and with his heart felt promises not to hurt me again; interrupted, as it was, as his mouth connected and disconnected repeatedly with mine.

I continued to nod, telling myself internally to calm down, while continuing to turn more and more rigid as Edward's hands gently slipped my panties from my hips.

I knew I had to get a grip, because if Edward sensed my fear, his guilt would no doubt kick in, and I'd almost certainly have to injure him.

It wasn't as if I'd never had rough, maiming sex with Sasquatch before—

Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallowed past the accompanied aversion that threatened to become an audible groan.

I would _not_ have Jake on my mind—not now!

Edward's lips pressed tenderly against my forehead, before he exhaled deeply. "Talk to me, Bella."

I looked into his eyes. It was Edward staring back. It was always Edward; my Edward. . .

He wouldn't hurt me, and I didn't fear him. I could give him my body and my soul; for the first time in my life.

"Make love to me, Edward. . ." I whispered, and I was so damn inundated by everything suddenly, that I was sure I was about to cry. "And don't hold back." I have no idea where that last bit came from; all I knew was that I wouldn't sabotage this.

"Let go, baby," he replied, his voice husky, his lips again closing over mine before I could contemplate his meaning.

And so I did.

It all left me; all my fear; all my insecurity. I focused solely on that moment; of Edward's sultry hot body pressed against mine; of the very tangible emotion that was coursing through me because of it; of his eyes that echoed everything he spoke to me. Every kiss, caress, and every touch.

I completely abandoned myself to him.

He pulled himself up onto his hands, pressing that brick of blissful heat further against my aggrieved but lustfully masochistic hoohah. I didn't tense or shy away; I wrapped my legs around him, opening my body to him without a moment's hesitation, and while losing myself in the dark depths of his eyes.

Edward's eyes.

Wrapping my palm around the nape of his neck, I pulled him back against me, while finding his lips, as he slipped heavily within me.

Mother of pearl!

I had no idea such pleasure and pain could intermingle in such away. My body reacted instinctively; recoiling, yet yielding. It was neither pain nor desire, but something more than both.

I held Edward to me; he had initially tried to pull himself off me, but I held steadfast to him. "Don't stop," I told him, barely a murmur against the skin of his rigid hard shoulder.

I felt him gradually relax against me, before he sought out my lips with his, then slowly, and oh so gently, he began to move.

He was gentle, and tentative, moving within me with a building, burning need. His mouth—his entire face—remained connected to me. His eyelashes brushed against my trembling skin, delicately; his lips grazed me; his breath, hot and torrid, took me down with him; up with him; down with him, again and again. Over and over.

Holy hell did my most delicate of parts cry out in protest, but I couldn't properly discern it separately. It began as pain, evolved into a rapidly growing desire, until it became something else entirely. It wasn't just a matter of screaming out in ecstasy; it was so much more. So much different.

It wasn't like every other experience I'd ever had. I didn't want Edward to just get me off in one spectacular moment; I wanted to wholly and completely close my eyes and lose myself in him.

I became breathless and overheated, and I listened to his heart fall in sync with mine, as the energy between us began to expand.

Edward's body began to grow locked, his muscles began to quake. He grabbed my hands and threaded his fingers through mine, kissing me intermittently and burying his face against me. His eyes were closed, his forehead bridged; his jaw set.

I remained focused on him, and yet I lost myself in the pure emotion of it.

I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I wanted to yell out how much I loved him, but I didn't. My chest was bursting with him; my veins were coursing with him, and every one of my muscles began to tremor as the intensity of it took me higher.

And higher.

And Higher. . .

Edward began struggling with his breath, groaning past it, his body one hard solid mass against mine; moving and responding within me.

His movements were becoming more forceful, all without being rough or painful, and still I was going higher.

It was an undercurrent of senses beneath my skin, amassing rapidly, tingling to the tips of my fingers and toes. Taking me up. . .

Up. . .

Up. . .

Oh, God, up. . .

Edward suddenly shuddered, made a raspy groaning sound, and then took a restricted sounding breath, before it completely left him in one huge gush. Then his hot, sweaty, pulsating body collapsed on top of me, and he was still.

The release in me that was rising began to plummet and merge back with my aching, burning hot body; with Edward. With Edward as he pressed his lips softly, and delicately to my face, and then again, before he found my mouth, tenderly and briefly.

He rolled us to the side, and encircled me against his chest, as his breathing calmed.

I was overwhelmed, and I was exhausted; emotionally and physically. I wanted to cry, and laugh. I wanted to blurt nonsensical things, and I really just wanted to fall sleep.

I felt whole for the first time in so long, and I felt connected for the first time, ever. I felt human. I felt like a virgin—despite the amount of times I came during our momentous foreplay session, and despite not coming at the end.

 _That_ was definitely a first, but it didn't matter.

Edward and I had made love.

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 **Liked? Disliked? Just wanna lurk?  
MWAH and thanks for reading. I love ever single one of my 234 followers to bits! **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: We are so not in Kansas any more, Toto.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Light My Fire.**

I fell asleep against Edward's damp, sultry body, pretty much straight away. I was exhausted anyway, but it was either sleep or burst into tears and slobber all over his chest.

My body ached all over, and emotionally I was shredded.

How had I survived, what I'd had of an adult life, completely denying myself emotional and physical intimacy? How did I get to the point where orgasms and bulging pectorals constituted the basis of a relationship?

Emotionally, I felt like I'd just lost my virginity, and just like I'd had with the physical equivalent, my veins coursed, and my body hummed with the absolute magnetism of it. It wasn't until I began to come down from the adrenalin that I was rendered a pitiful, overwrought wreck.

But this time, I was all of that and more.

As I lay against Edward, rising and falling with him beneath me as his breathing calmed, my heart was swelling with him; with what we'd shared; and with how he'd made me feel. A hundred emotions raged through me—inundating me—all at once, that I thought my heart was going to burst through my chest.

For the second time in my life I had lost my virginity, but this time, I hadn't just had awkward, twenty-seven second long, semi-horizontal sex—complete with grass stains—for the first time, with Tyler Crowely under the bleachers at Forks High School. I had connected emotionally with Edward. It was metaphysical, as much as it was physical.

He'd made me whole.

Oh, fuck—it was a total Tom Cruise movie Cliché, but I felt complete.

This is when I was on the verge of bursting into tears, so I decided to yield to the emotional exhaustion that was beginning to pull me under, and promptly fell asleep.

"You're so much hotter than Tom Cruise, Edward," I heard my voice mumble like a lunatic just before the abyss of unconsciousness took me; rocked as I was, by Edward's soft, accompanying laugh.

When I woke it was early evening.

I was still lying with my cheek flat against Edward's chest, and even through the shroud of sleep, the deep, resonating sound of his heart had remained with me. I stirred, slowly regaining my senses, feeling the smile grow across my face before I was fully aware of it. Despite the fuzziness of the situation and the warmth of his skin, my body was cool. I shivered and curled myself further against him, feeling his hands run upwards from around my lower back, dragging a blanket with him and encircling me in warmth.

I took a breath, humming sleepily with it, then turned my face and buried my nose into the soft down of his chest hair. He still had the scent of rain soaked into his skin, and together with that natural, woody smell of him, my coherency was hastened by Celeste's sudden pull of desire.

I felt his lips on my forehead. He let them linger there as he took a deep breath and whispered my name. And instead of sounding dull and patronizing, the way He Man often spoke my name, Edward made it sound sensual, musical.

I raised my head, reconnecting my lips with his and pulled myself to a straddled position over him.

I kissed him and kissed him, losing myself in his soft, tender lips as they moved and took me deeper.

I wanted to scoff at myself, for that one moment I'd actually gotten tired of kissing him. There was an element of insanity in everyone, and that was definitely proof of mine.

Well, despite the obvious others.

But I could kiss him forever. I _would_ kiss him forever.

In one motion Edward sat up, elevating me higher than him, before he severed his lips from mine and pressed them delicately and repeatedly to my shoulders and collar bone. It left me in a slight state of suspended animation, while feeling myself suddenly and directly pressing against him and all his unrestrained, rapidly hardening glory.

I thought about it for no more than five seconds; sex and the possibility that I might have to ask Edward to perform CPR on my hoohah, before I relaxed my full weight against him.

Edward immediately tensed; his lips against my skin pausing, before a soft, muffled groan left his throat.

The sound of it—the heat of it against my flesh—awoke a hunger, a burning need to know, to feel, and to taste him all over, once more. And to have the searing, divine length of him within me, again and again.

Oh God, the mere idea of it practically threw me over the edge, while my bankrupt she-bits, in a state of sudden DUI, rolled out the welcome carpet.

"Oh, Jesus, Bella." His rustic voice became practically a growl, while his fingers probed deeper into my flesh as they travelled up my back.

His burning, fervid lips moved to my throat, and I threw my head back, letting the building energy within me awaken and electrify further.

I shifted, it was inadvertent, but I found myself on the very edge of being impaled—not to mention the friction against the doorbell to my happy valley that immediately flooded me with light.

I shuddered, catching my breath midway and almost choked, but since I was an exposed nerve of arousal, all it did was heighten me further.

My hands ran down and across Edward's course, rugged jaw, my fingers inching into his hair, before I angled his face to mine, catching a glimpse of the vivid, jade of his eyes as they caught the light seeping in from the hall; contracting his pupils. They locked with mine, intense and simmering, before something in them flickered. Then with a steadily creasing brow, his eyes focused, squinting in the dim light on something just ahead of us.

Not wanting anything to spoil this moment, I kissed him. His lips were slightly ajar, and yielding, but he didn't respond. In fact, he mumbled my name as if to stop me, awkwardly against my mouth as I attempted to engage him further.

A moment later he pulled me back from him, so he could—what I assumed was to—look into my eyes, but instead they remained locked beyond me; on the mirror that reflected us back to him.

Oh, shit. . .

"Bella—what?" he uttered, before he let it go, only to lean us both sideways, almost tipping us over the side of the bed, to flick on his bedside lamp.

The room flooded with light, burning my eyes for a moment. I buried my face against his shoulder, allowing them to adjust.

"Jesus, Bella!" he exclaimed in alarm. "What did you do to. . ." the words almost instantly died on his lips as recognition suddenly sparked in his daunted eyes, darkening them almost immediately.

He'd seen the bruised state of my back and shoulder blades.

Wall romp guilt, scene: two. Take: one hundred and fifty seven.

Damn it.

I stared into his stricken face and smiled warmly in hopes to placate him. "It's okay. It looks worse than what it really is."

Releasing his breath, he dipped his face and ran his hand thickly through his hair. I didn't take it as a good sign; Edward usually only reefed at his hair in moments like these.

"Shit," he mumbled barely beneath his breath. "I . . . did that to you." He sighed again, sounding resigned, and I was willing to bet with a truck load of added self-loathing.

"Edward. . ." I paused, sighing myself, as my shoulders fell; noticing something else falling beneath me at the same time.

I wanted to say "fuck my life" but sitting, completely naked on Edward, deflating or otherwise—and despite the fact that he was immersing himself in his morbidly cherished guilt—was still so ridiculously, wonderfully out of this world, that I almost had a subconscious urge to nosedive for Roddy.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I feel like fucking shit!" he muttered, his head remaining bowed, as he continued to push his rigid fingers through his hair.

I huffed, becoming irritated. "Edward, you promised me you wouldn't do this again!" I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair, and pulled his head back to meet my gaze. "So, please just—stop!"

He exhaled deeply, his eyes diverting from mine. "I didn't mean to be so—"

"I know you didn't!" I interjected sharply, feeling myself tense with frustration. I almost wanted to slap him—slap this guilt bullshit right out of him.

And so I did, flush across his face.

It stunned the hell out of him, and with wide, surprised eyes, he met my gaze; his mouth falling slightly agape.

"There, now we're even. Can we please just move beyond this?" The initial feeling I had of regret, that I'd just done something incredibly stupid, was instantly erased as a sly, almost playful smirk inched across his face.

But it was only fleeting, and erased almost instantly as his breath left him in a jaded gush.

"Your back is black and blue, Bella. There's no excuse for how I treated you." His expression was completely afflicted again; his forehead heavily ridged. It was actually hard to bear.

"You technically didn't bruise my back, the wall did." I attempted to make light of it, knowing full well it was futile.

"I pushed you into it," he muttered, dipping his head again and releasing his breath for the umpteenth time with, what I could only imagine, copious amounts of shame.

Good God. . .

I tried a different angle.

"Well, tell me why you did?" I asked him tentatively, wavering slightly as his lips began connecting at the base of my throat.

There was nothing sensual about the way he was kissing me; it was out of pure unadulterated guilt.

And he didn't answer me, so I prompted him, "You were pissed off at me, weren't you? Tell me, Edward."

His nose and lips were grazing across my shoulder, heating me with his breath, but I knew how much he was beating himself up, so it was easy to remain unaffected by it. I was actually pretty frustrated.

And still he didn't answer me.

Cupping both sides of his face, I yanked his head up. "Edward!"

"Bella . . . don't," he said softly, removing my hands from about his face.

I was beginning to feel defeated, and this time it was _my_ hands that ran stiffly over my scalp. "You're killing me, Edward—and you're wasting your time feeling bad over what happened. I was just as much to blame, and I've moved past it."

" _I_ didn't end up physically hurt, though. I-I didn't realize I was being so rough." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him, taking yet another weary breath before pressing his lips to the side of my neck.

Honestly, it was like being simultaneously tortured, while having the urge to roll your eyes and scoff.

Deciding to let it go, I relaxed a little in his embrace, and laid my head on his shoulder. "It wasn't like you were beating me up, Edward. It was . . . _unique_. Besides, if it happened under different circumstances, it wouldn't be an issue."

I closed my eyes for a moment as the memory of Edward's rigid hard, burning hot body rammed me repeatedly against the wall as he entered and re-entered me, replayed in my mind.

I practically groaned audibly, as a burst of desire began to infiltrate me.

We _had_ to do that again. Oh, god did we!

With my loins on fire, and spreading fast, I acted purely from my building senses. I kissed him deeply, then again, taking as much of him as I possibly could, while pressing myself fully against him—and over him. I was practically suffocating myself on his mouth, while burying my face deep against his. It took him a moment longer, but eventually he yielded to me, until he was heatedly responding, while the Brigadier General beneath me stood immediately to attention.

I would not allow our first moments to be tainted by the past; a past that had led us to this point in time, together. I would turn what had happened the day before into the most sexually inspiring point in our lives if it killed me—and by the way my girlie bits were pounding with both increasing anxiety and masochistic longing, it no doubt would.

But we had to create a new memory to replace it; that was all there was to it. I didn't want Edward turning all tortured vampire on me, and refuse to touch me again—like that movie Alice dragged Rose and I to see a few weeks previous.

The same movie where we were asked to leave because Rose kept loudly heckling it, upsetting a group of teenagers in front of us to the point that their nail files came out.

I sort of scoffed out my amusement against Edward's lips, glad for the moment of distraction, because I knew if I was going to do this, it was going to have to get rough. And I honestly didn't know if my she-bits could withstand a beating twice in two days.

But then to completely contradict me, and in complete rejection of self-preservation, my whorish happy valley almost literally vibrated at the prospect, sending shock waves up and done my spine, and eliciting a rather wanton sound from my mouth.

Of course, Edward caught on effective immediately, and was instantly reminded of his recourse of self-hatred.

"Bella. . ." he pulled from my lips long enough to utter my name; his voice was rustic and gravelly; his eyes dark and intense.

It did nothing to help alleviate my hyper-horny hoohah's masochism, but in the next moment, guilt again was edging back into Edward's expression; turning my building desire into instant agitation.

Using all my weight, I shoved him forcefully back against the bed. He landed flat on his back, with me landing heavily on top of him. Then, knowing it was ridiculously laughable and Edward could shove me off him any time he wanted, I pinned him down, using as much strength as I could manage.

I could feel the strain of it throbbing in the vein at my temple, and while Edward's initial reaction was surprise, a smirk began immersing with his expression.

I leaned in to him; he didn't fight me, and for the briefest moment, a feverish look of hunger stirred in his eyes. I closed my mouth over his, almost impulsively, before pulling back abruptly, and moving my lips to his ear. "Remember, when I told you that if you apologized again for what happened yesterday, I'd make you sorry?"

His smirk deepened, not at all intimidated by me, or my attempts to appear all assertive, dominant sex goddess. "Refresh my memory, Bella," he replied, with a husky deep voice, but completely patronizing the position I was attempting to hold over him.

Wise ass.

I'd have to step it up a notch.

Looking around the room, I grabbed the first thing that caught my eye and sparked somewhat of a possibility; a tie lying haphazardly over a cardboard box.

It was still looped as if he'd loosened it and pulled it over his head rather than completely untying it.

Before I gave Edward a moment to realize what I was holding, and before he could pre-empt me, I had the tie about his neck, noosing it tightly around his throat.

"Up!" I commanded, feigning authority and removing all emotion from my voice.

Admittedly, it almost brought me completely undone; this was not something I had ever done before, and I was Bella Swan, ultimate beefcake sex sell-out.

Edward quirked his brow at me as if to gauge me—to dare me, his smirk so cocky that it pissed me off a little. That slight amount of irritation helped me swallow the urge to start breathing indecently, as I yanked on the tie, making it so tight that it almost cut off his air ways.

I didn't give him a second to react, and in one movement, I jumped off the bed, pulling him with me, using the tie like reins, before I shoved him hard against the wall of his dimly lit bedroom—so hard that it threatened a mini earthquake to the furniture that aligned it.

It took all my strength, and was probably a comical sight; me, ten inches shorter than him, with both palms flat on his chest, one hand semi-closed into a fist with the tie entwined around my fingers, and panting with the effort it took me—never mind from what it did to me erotically.

Catching my pitifully carnal breath, I looked slowly up into Edward's face, continuing to push against him. He was staring down at me, his face an amalgamation of expressions. His initial reaction was incredulous, while he looked as if he wasn't sure whether he should take me seriously, but there was a definite shift in his arousal. He blinked slowly, almost laboriously, and as his eyes locked and canvassed mine again, they were on fire.

While I continued battling with my breath, contemplating whether I even had the stamina to pull this off, Edward's lips jerked slightly to one side, in an expression of amused tenderness.

Mother fuck!

If he didn't look so irresistibly appealing, standing completely naked, hair a total mayhem, with nothing but a tie strung around his neck. . .

"What are you doing, Bel—" he began, his soft, croaky voice the only thing preventing me from maiming him, before I cut him off by pressing my lips, hard an partially apart, to his.

I kissed him with hot determination, deeply, and salaciously, with unabashed fervor. I opened everything I had to him, literally, but it wasn't enough; I wasn't taking him high enough. And to further prove it, as he responded, and with his lips still plastered with mine, he began chuckling—though he tried to disguise it—snorting it breathlessly through his nose.

This really pissed me off.

Without another thought I closed my mouth, taking the entire length of his lower lip between my teeth, and biting down on it.

He jerked in reflex, sucking in his breath, before attempting to utter a response. It only came out as unintelligible incoherency.

Okay, time to take it up another notch.

Releasing him, I shoved him again, hard against the wall, before reaching down and grabbing his Lance corporal firmly in my grip.

Almost instinctually, his entire body shuddered. "Oh, Christ—Bella!" he strangled out, half groaning with it.

Ignoring him, I bent down quickly before him. His Lieutenant Commander stood, fully and completely erect and horizontal. I was actually slightly taken aback by him. As a rule, I didn't find them very attractive. Jake's looked like one of those man-eating slugs from the King Kong movie, but Edward's. . .

I closed my eyes, taking a short breath before, with a sudden burst of insatiable desire, I took him wholly into my mouth.

Edward's legs immediately buckled, and he slid from the wall, collapsing to the floor.

This was something else I really didn't enjoy with Sasquatch. He had actually turned me right off it. My gag reflex would kick in whenever that stump of a thing got within half a mile of my mouth.

But with Edward—oh God, I wanted to eat him.

In my efforts to get him to the point of ravenously horny, I may have bitten down on him, ever so slightly, while Edward—asphyxiating and almost going through the roof—buried both his hands in my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, roughly.

He practically pulled me off his Sergeant Major, but it was working.

I took him into me, further with each breath, until his entire body of muscles were so locked and rigid that he was immovable. He grabbed more and more of my hair in his fists, straining to breathe and struggling with his self-control.

I continued, biting him again, harder this time. He twitched and uttered a repressed kind of groan, that I immediately released him from my mouth—a little hastily.

I might have been Bella Swan, whore incarnate; I might have sold my dignity to a gorilla with a Toyota, but I _didn't_ swallow!

Feeling ridiculously relieved that I hadn't over done things and killed scene two of our wall romp before we even got it off the ground, I left his Master Seaman behind, still ferociously stiff, and trailed my lips; pausing intermittently to press them against him, from his lower stomach, upwards.

His skin was burning hot and damp, his breathing was manic, while his hands, still gripping fistfuls of my hair, relaxed slightly. And this time, when I curled my hands around his neck, and leaned in to kiss him, he slipped both his palms to cup my face and drew me to him with a definite sense of urgency.

There was no more amusement at my efforts or expense, just his mouth meeting mine, tasting, savoring, relishing and, oh, god, taking me up that summit once again.

"You're going to . . . kill me . . . Miss Swan," he murmured while his lips connected and severed from mine repeatedly, before he placed them on my neck.

"Not unless . . . you kill . . . me first," I breathed out my reply, my eyes closing as I swooned in his arms.

Smothering his amusement against the curve of my neck and shoulder, he continued to caress his lips against my flesh, turning it steamy, before he again took my lips.

The tempo had slowed; it had turned all romantic and lovey-dovey. We were going to make love again, and we couldn't. Edward had to fuck me—dammit!

As much as I wanted to make love with him forever, I also wanted to have mindless, rough and heavy sex with him—up against the wall, in the shower, in an elevator—where ever—so long as he moved past the previous night's disaster, and was willing to engage in it with me.

I couldn't turn my Edward—love of my life, ridiculously, obliviously gorgeous and sexy Edward—into an anal retentive, impotent neurotic.

And I didn't want him to feel guilt, or anything of the kind, during the first moments of the two of us being together.

Opening my mouth to him further, I pressed myself flush against him, before grabbing a handful of his hair, and pulling him back. "Take me against the wall again," I whispered to him, swallowing back my raspy breath.

It was as if he didn't hear me, and even as I spoke, his eyes remained locked to my mouth. My mouth that he ravished the moment I closed it.

He uttered out some semi-grunted reply, but then I wasn't sure it wasn't a result of me pulling on his tie again.

"Stand up—take me against the wall!" I demanded, this time impassionedly, after again grabbing a fistful of his hair, and yanking him back from me, brutally.

He didn't reply; he just gauged me without words, his forehead quirking slightly. Then a moment later, he returned to conquering my mouth. "I can't . . . do that to you again, Bella," he eventually replied, a barely whispered declaration of his continuing guilt.

I wasn't deterred.

Turning my head, I freed my mouth from his, choosing a different angle as his lips savored my temple and ran down the contours of my neck. It was almost impossible to find my voice; I was still on that rollercoaster, going up, after all.

"Rectify it, Edward. Show me how you meant it to go."

This must have sparked some comprehension back into him, because in the next moment, he was on his feet, dragging me with him. And the moment after, he hoisted me on his hips, and held me firmly against the wall.

Relief inundated me, while my entire body was alight and buzzing, so amplified it flooded my fortune cookie with so much palpable energy that I had to bite down on my lower lip, aggressively, to force it back.

This time, when I partied with Jackie-O, Edward was going to get down with me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, tightly, throwing off the invading memories from the last time I was in this position. This time they weren't positive.

I guess I needed this as much as he did.

He shifted, lifting me slightly into a better position, the muscles in his arms locked, bulging and slightly quaking. He appeared completely exhausted, but ravenous at the same time, that it brought out a conflicting emotion from me.

cocooning myself against him, I held myself to him, steadfast around his neck, and kissed him, deeply and tenderly.

I was inadvertently slowing down the momentum, allowing my ultra-needy, sack of sappy self to take the reins for a moment.

Ironically, it was Edward who switched us back. He immediately took charge and kissed me with a fiery intensity; shifting again until I was suddenly feeling his 1st Lieutenant, implacable and unrelenting.

In reflex I held my breath, feeling myself automatically tense, as a white wall of fire tore through me as he penetrated me.

My breath hitched further back; I was barely able to suppress the afflicted, blissful cry from escaping me.

It was Edward's reaction that helped me focus. He exhaled, straining through it gutturally, before instantly becoming aware of me.

Resting his dampened brow against mine, his agonizing green eyes locked my gaze to his.

I could read him immediately; it was an unspoken question and concern.

I shook my head slightly, before closing my eyes momentarily; enjoying the musky heat of his breath on my face.

When I opened my eyes again, I caught his, resolute.

"Pretend it's yesterday. I asked you to do this, and you agreed. How do you want it to go?" I asked him honestly, quirking my brow as I spoke.

He nodded, an affectionate grin encompassing his face, before he took my lips again and again, gently but with building urgency.

Pulling back, and causing me an almost pain induced, ecstasy filled stroke, he anchored me on the wall, freeing himself to move. But after no more than five seconds, he again pulled me against him, bearing all of my weight.

It failed almost immediately. He couldn't get into a rhythm; it was stiff, awkward and uncoordinated, becoming obvious to both of us that he had to, at some point, push me into the wall and with some level of force.

He had been taking my weight, using every measure to make sure that when he reentered me, I didn't impact with the wall. It wasn't going to work, he was struggling to hold me, his muscles were straining and his chest was heaving back his breath; the same way he did, the day he pulled me from the ocean.

"Let go, Edward," I murmured into his ear, repeating what he had said to me earlier, before pulling his ear lobe into my mouth.

He nodded, exhaling heavily, seeming to contemplate my words.

"Be rough; it's the only way I can feel you."

Okay, not exactly the truth, but since my happy valley had no sense of self preservation, I figured I might as well sacrifice her.

And before I could properly process what I was thinking, Edward kissed me again, taking my mouth deeply, as he shifted me back against the wall.

He was slow and measured, moving me with him as opposed to asserting any force against me. It was ridiculously delicious and erotic, and I came close to completely losing myself with him, but he wasn't being aggressive enough. I had to coax him, again and again, almost choking on the pain his Commander and Chief was causing me, while reviving myself on the star spangled bliss of it a moment later.

Eventually, with the physical energy building within him undoubtedly crossing all boundaries of his reason, he let go to the point where he really began pushing against me—while I was on the verge of entering a bi-polar induced coma.

I was almost going cross eyed, and utterly torn between screaming his name out in ecstasy, and succumbing to my pain related Tourette's by calling him something I only ever used to call He Man.

But, even when he was at the point where he was on auto pilot, completely controlled by his growing climax, he still attempted to shield me from the physical effects of it. He was so completely adorable, but I was forced to push him off me. He couldn't fully release if he was worried about me, and I didn't need him to remind me of how much it was really hurting me.

But, oh fuck, was it heaven.

I knew I had to disconnect myself to fully relax, because it got to the point where I couldn't separate the pain I felt from the pleasure. The moment I released myself, it all fused together; Edward's body compounded with mine, until all I could conceive was the movement between us, and all I could feel was the surge of electricity pushing its way out of me.

I rode up with it, with Edward and the force he was moving me with, until all too quickly, it peaked.

As it burst from me, it was with such a physical momentum that when I attempted speech to yell to the heavens, I began gasping. And when I tried to take a breath, I realized that my throat had completely closed up.

For one horrifying moment, I felt like I did twelve months ago, being rolled in the surf, unable to breathe as it dragged me further out to sea.

But then Edward's body collided with mine, entering and re-entering me over and over, before he gathered me in his arms and buried me against him.

My lungs suddenly kicked back into fifth gear.

Gulping the air down my burning throat, I dug my fingers deeply into his flesh, holding myself to him tightly. I immersed myself completely with him, feeling his heavily pounding body reverberating with mine, and using it to take me higher.

I didn't just go up, I went in every direction, before finally locating my voice, and announcing every euphoric-filled emotion coursing through me, loudly and incoherently, for the world to hear, "Oh God, Edward—God, fuck—I'm dying!"

That was the PG version, anyway.

Along with a few more obscenities; several more declarations to Edward and God; and finally words not recognized in the English language, it spilled from my mouth, all in the matter of seconds and all jumbled together, until we were both still.

I clung to Edward as we both descended, holding him to me like a second skin. His chest was lunging, beyond ravished and deprived of air, in and out rapidly, taking mine with him; bringing me down with him.

We remained upright for no longer than three seconds, before we promptly fell to the floor; two asphyxiating, wet and sticky bodies entwined together.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bella," Edward whispered, still lagging and starved of oxygen, before clumsily pressing his hot, wet lips to my forehead.

I could feel his pulse through them, synced with his heart as it rocked against me.

For me, it took a good two minutes more before my heart slowed its furious pounding and I was able to get my breathing under a minimal amount of control to the point that I was semi-lucid again.

"Oh God," I whispered in response, not really aware of what I was speaking, before closing my eyes and focusing on our dancing hearts as they gradually calmed.

Edward's heart, in sync with mine.

Good God.

I wasn't used to this sappy shit after sex.

Usually, I cried.

With Jacob my brain had always remained sharply in tune, and would always quickly remind me that I'd just sold myself out—again. But right then, with Edward, nothing mattered; my brain was fried. There was no subconscious voice to drag me down, and remind me of what a skanky cop-out I was.

There was just the two of us together, with no more regret.

I curled my body further against him, before he rolled himself sluggishly on his back, pulling me on top of him as he did.

Laying my head on his chest, I closed my eyes again, so exhausted that I was sure I was drooling.

"There's no way I'm leaving without you, baby," he mumbled with a deep and heavy sigh.

My eyes instantaneously snapped open.

* * *

 **A/N: Ye Gods, after all the angst from Because of You, to this, I'm feeling rather bi-polar. In saying that, this chapter is as probably as explicit as I will ever get. Still pretty tame for these parts, but I hope you all liked regardless :)  
Thanks for reading. Send me some love, or not, and see you next week.  
MWAH xoxo**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This Chapter is Edward's POV of chapter 2 (Alice and Jazz's engagement party). I'm not a fan of doing mirror chapters, but I wanted everyone to understand Edward's mindset and why he acted the way he did with Bella the next day. You'll all see exactly what Bella said (and did) while drunk.**

 **Writing this chapter completely threw me, because it is such a huge contrast from writing loopy, looney, mental, head case Bella's perspective, that I almost scrapped it a few times. But Edward is Edward and in this chapter, you'll get a clear insight into his thoughts and feelings. Poor, hopeless sap.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **Edward's POV Part 1**

 **Edward's POV**

I noticed her straight away; though, I was almost sure I recognized the scent of her perfume, before my eyes caught sight of her.

Coco Chanel.

I knew this because I bought her a bottle of it for her twenty-first birthday, and every time she'd hung out with me since, she'd worn it.

Why?

How the hell do I know?

Maybe because she was a typical female who liked to screw with my mind.

But there she was, ensnared in the middle of a three-way group hug, as my soon-to-be sister, hyped up on excitement, welcomed her and Rose to the party.

I watched for a few moments as they kissed each other the way girls often did, before turning away, and walking hastily in the opposite direction. I told myself it was to anticipate her and get her a drink, but in reality, it was because I was on the verge of a very public erection.

What the hell was with that outfit she was wearing? It was revealing to the point that it was almost slutty.

I could only guess it was her idiot lover's influence, but then Bella never usually allowed him to dictate what she wore. If she did, she'd look like Pamela Anderson on a daily basis.

Nope, Bella danced to no one's tune but her own.

Still, this near skanky outfit she had on was definitely fitting with the "whore" persona she was constantly insisting to me she was.

I don't know how many times I'd told her to stop being ridiculous. Being Jake's girlfriend didn't automatically make her a whore. If she was anyone else, I'd say it made her an imbecile, but Bella wasn't that either.

"Airhead" was also a possibility, but it wasn't a definition I'd use to describe her—despite the fact that it was my initial opinion of her before we'd met.

In my defense, it was Jacob, after all, and every girlfriend he'd had up until Bella definitely fit into the "airhead" category. So, how was I supposed to know he'd break the status quo for his taste in girls and find one who actually had some intelligence?

I mean, the girl Jacob was seeing before Bella did use the word "like" in every sentence, and told me I bore a striking similarity to the guy who played the sparkly vampire.

" _Oh my god,_ like _Edward—you look exactly like Robert Pattinson. I, like—_ love _him."_

Jesus. . .

It was so easy back then. There was absolutely no chance I'd ever develop feelings for his girlfriends. But, then came Bella.

Bella, who completely floored me the first moment I met those dark, perceptive eyes of hers.

I often thought she was just naïve. Maybe she was in the beginning, but not anymore, and not for quite some time. And being aware of this didn't exactly help me understand her any better.

So, it left me with the same lingering question, as I walked the twenty or so feet through the crowd to the bar, as I attempted to distract myself from the physical knee-jerk reaction I often suffered in Bella's presence; what the hell did she still see in Jacob?

I poured a plastic cup with wine, and then backtracked, making doubly sure I was in absolute control of myself before I approached her.

I should have been an expert at self-control after all this time, but I was barely close. Despite spending the last couple of years struggling to convince her, Jake, and everyone around us—including myself—that I was completely indifferent to her, I had remained as much in love with her as I was that first fateful day we'd met.

I approached her from behind, faltering for a moment, before I forced myself to relax—quickly reminding myself that she was one of the very few females on this planet who could make me feel completely at ease. Falling into step with her, I draped my arm casually around her shoulder.

"Hello, stranger. Was wondering when you were going to show up," I leaned down to her and spoke playfully, almost stumbling as the smell of her skin completely invaded my senses.

Bella, herself, immediately tensed before she turned her dark eyes to mine.

For the briefest moment, I could have sworn an expression of surprise flickered across her face, as if she didn't quite recognize me—as stupid as that was—before she broke into a warm, affectionate—almost shrewd—smile; instantly making me doubt myself. "Miss me, would you?"

I grinned down at her, feeling it grow broad the longer I gazed at her, while she only continued to stare up at me, with surprise seeping back into her expression.

What was surprising her, I had no idea. Hell, I had no idea what this girl was thinking at the best of times, so I let it go.

Removing my arm from her shoulders, I placed my hand over my heart. "My night would have been filled with loneliness and sorrow," I teased her, my voice dipping too soft.

Joking with her was easy. I always felt comfortable and relaxed around her, and it kept me distracted and my eyes somewhat diverted from the fact that I was coming very close to all out gawking at her breasts.

Her outfit was a little too inviting for me to rationally cope with. I kept my eyes locked steadfast to hers.

Her gaze dipped to my mouth for a moment, before she snapped her eyes back to mine, almost rolling them good naturedly. "You're a dork."

I chuckled, suddenly remembering the cup of wine I was gripping like a vice in my other hand, and held it out to her. "Here you go—looking for one of these?"

She took the drink from me, her fingers brushing lightly over mine as she did. "Always one step ahead of me, aren't you," she replied, smiling up at me in an astute, affectionate kind of way.

I felt my grin inch wide again, when with her face suddenly flushing, she broke my gaze.

It was obvious when Bella blushed, considering how pale she was; it just wasn't something she often did. But then Bella's whole behavior lately wasn't exactly in character for her either.

I often wondered whether she was beginning to suspect how I felt about her. It would explain how awkward she appeared around me lately; how awkward she appeared around me now.

Without being fully conscious of it, I ran my hand through my hair, rubbing the back of my neck, beginning to feed off her awkwardness.

It was always going to come to this. We didn't exactly have a future together.

Bella suddenly cleared her throat and was smiling up at me again; her eyebrows were raised slightly, as if she was putting some silent question to me.

As usual, I had no idea what, so I changed tactic. "Want to grab a seat?" I asked, leaning down towards her ever so slightly and catching a glimpse of her cleavage.

If this was what she was wearing for the night, I was going to have to get drunk—and fast.

She met my eyes briefly before she hastily turned away again, her face turning a shade deeper. "Um . . . yeah, just let me congratulate your brother first. Where is he?" she asked, half mumbling.

I scanned the crowds for my brother, spotting him almost immediately, and after pointing him out to Bella, I watched as she stumbled her way toward him.

Everything about her body language screamed discomfort; it was as if she couldn't get away fast enough from me.

Feeling suddenly irritated at myself, I turned away from her with the intention of getting a beer. Instead I ran into my brother's fiancé.

"Hey, Edward!" she greeted me with her usual enthusiasm. She seemed slightly more hyper than usual, and I wondered if she was drunk already. Alice was always so manic that it was hard to tell.

I smiled at her, not really feeling it. "Hey."

"Did you find Bella?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did." I half shrugged, and her expression immediately shifted, until she was gauging me suspiciously.

"Do me a favor?" she asked, her eyes continuing to size me up.

"What?" I asked her dryly.

"Look after her tonight. She's gonna need you."

My heart paused for a moment and I was about to question her further, when her gaze suddenly pushed past me. "Bells!" she exclaimed, switching instantly back to her hyper zealous self. "Guys, come and get a seat!" And with that said, she grabbed my hand, then Bella's, and dragged the two of us to a small table.

"You don't have a drink, Edward—what do you want? I'll grab you one!" Alice asked, sounding unbalanced again in her enthusiasm.

"I can get—" I began, but she interjected, brushing me off insistently. "A beer," I eventually answered, before she skipped off comically into the crowds.

Scoffing slightly to myself, I glanced over at Bella; she threw me a tight smile, before her eyes darted down to her lap. She began chewing on her bottom lip.

So what had Jake done to her this time?

I could usually tell immediately when Bella was pissed off at him. She never had any objections to venting away to me about it. In fact, it was usually the first thing out of her mouth the moment she greeted me.

" _Hi, Edward—fucking hell, Jacob is an asshole. . ."_ That's how it usually went, anyway.

I waited until Alice returned with my beer and left again, before I leaned closer to her across the table. "What's the matter, Bella?"

She shifted in her seat a little. "Nothing, what makes you ask?" Her eyes met mine only fractionally before she glanced around her, as if trying to appear casual.

It was the last thing she was.

"You're distracted, and you look. . ." I paused, contemplating it, "agitated."

For a moment she appeared cynical, as if she was about to roll her eyes at me. "I'm fine," she replied casually with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders.

"You're not," I countered.

Her face clouded a bit before she downed almost all her wine in one gulp, seeming to ignore me.

"Is it Jake," I pressed her.

This time her eyes snapped to mine and her expression completely darkened. "Fuck Jake!" she all but spat.

I felt my lips twitch with amusement, before coughing it back, knowing it would piss her off more. "Okay. . ." I replied, before picking up my beer and taking a mouthful, trying to drown out my emerging grin.

I failed.

If only she knew how completely adorable she was when she was pissed off. I guess a part of it was because she was practically half my size, and it was a little hard to take her seriously sometimes, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her anger at Jake amusing most of the time.

I liked when she was pissed off at him—as fucking healthy as that was.

Sighing, she glanced into her almost empty cup. "Shut up, Edward."

"Is it about him not coming? Because he really is sick, you know." Stranger things had happened, and Jake actually being sick instead of faking it to get out of whatever we'd planned, to fuck some bimbo he'd met, was one of them.

Her eyes narrowed, and her expression hedged with growing impatience. "Edward!" she blurted out with frustration, before seeming to sigh with resignation and abandon it. "It's not about Jake, so please, just drop it." And averting her face from mine again, she gulped down the last of her wine, but she was unable to disguise the fact that she was suddenly struggling with emotion.

From what I knew of Bella, crying wasn't something she succumbed to easily, but when she did break down, it wasn't easy to witness. In fact, it was getting increasingly harder to rein in my anger over what that brain dead moron, Jacob, did to her.

She swallowed before braving a glance at me. I smiled at her gently, and her face warmed almost immediately.

Then, leaning toward her across the table again, I motioned for her to do the same. She angled herself closer to me, and I was instantly flooded again by the scent of her perfume, and given a clear view of her breasts.

I needed another beer.

"Want to get drunk?" I proposed, teasing her affectionately.

Her grin grew wider, before she was suddenly looking at me the same way she always did; relaxed and with tenderness.

Releasing her breath, her grin broadened. "Yes, but not tonight. Tomorrow?"

"Deal," I said, reaching over and grabbing her hand. "Come on, let's dance."

Pulling her to her feet, I dragged her to the dance floor, ignoring her protests as I did.

"Edward—you know I have two left feet!" she exclaimed after we reached the center of the floor.

"I know," I replied. "Stop whining and loosen up," I teased her, placing my hands on her hips and pulling her towards me.

This seemed to shut her up, but nothing I could do could get her to swing those hips of hers. She just stood before me awkwardly moving, going redder by the second, while laughing at my perseverance.

Giving up, I grabbed her hand and pulled her swiftly against my chest, before dragging her around the dance floor. We almost fell over her feet several times, while Bella's laughter made her all the more clumsier.

Jesus, she smelled good, but at least having her pressed against me made it almost impossible to catch glimpses of her over exposed breasts. I'd seen her in bikinis before and even then I didn't see so much of her flesh, and I had no idea I'd react to it to this extent.

"Edward—stop!" she finally ordered me.

I conceded, before bending down to her ear, to be heard above the blaring music. "Okay, I'm going to get another drink. Want one?"

"Yeah." She swayed slightly.

Maneuvering my way through the crowd of people to the bar, I grabbed a can of beer from an ice bucket, and poured another plastic cup of wine for Bella, before returning.

When I spotted her again through the crowds, she had her back to me, chatting to Rose. And when I got within a few meters of them, Rose's eyes lifted to meet mine, her lips curving in a secretive smile; giving me the distinct, unnerving feeling that they were talking about me.

Shoving it off, I held out the wine to Bella over her shoulder, before curving my arm around her neck and resting it there.

Again, she tensed, before taking a hasty gulp of her drink.

"Hey, Rose. Want a drink?" I offered.

Rose's grin turned slightly canny, and was, for the most part, directed at Bella, before she turned her eyes to me. "Aren't you sweet, but no thanks, I'm good. I'm biding my time until they serve the food."

"Good idea," I replied, moving Bella and I off the dance floor before we ended up having our drinks knocked over us.

Bella was as stiff as a board and walked clumsily alongside me; eventually ducking out from under my arm, and stammering out an excuse for her escape, "Yeah, I need to e-eat—and use the bathroom."

Then without so much as a backward glance, she dragged Rose after her and disappeared into the crowd heading toward the house.

Sighing heavily, I dragged my fingers backwards through my hair, before taking a huge mouthful of my beer.

Bella's behavior around me was so uncharacteristic that I was finding it hard to believe it was connected only to Jake. She was clearly uncomfortable in my presence; something I had no way of understanding. She was usually so at ease—to the point that most of the time I was convinced she was flirting with me.

So, again, I shrugged it off.

Besides, I was beginning to feel like she was hanging with me out of some kind of obligation, and that pissed me off. If she preferred to be with her friends tonight, it was fine by me. There were no rules between the two of us, and since our relationship was more shades of grey than it was black and white, I had no right to be pissed off at her. She wasn't _my_ girlfriend, after all.

Her loyalties were for Jacob, not me, and I could understand her discomfort to a certain extent. Hanging with me alone in my apartment was one thing, but in front of her friends—people who knew her and Jacob? Obviously, that was something else altogether.

We'd become pretty close over the last several months. Was she aware that our friendship was bordering the inappropriate, and didn't want anyone else to see it?

If she wasn't then she should have been, but if she was, it definitely explained her behavior around me.

Taking another huge gulp of my beer, I emptied it, and then turned in the direction of my brother; throwing the empty can aggressively in the trash as I passed it.

For the next couple of hours Bella did her own thing, while I hung with the guys downing beer after beer in attempt to distract myself from her whereabouts. Something I, initially, had no intention of doing, but I'd been keeping such a close eye on her that it eventually became obvious to Jazz.

"So, what's the story with you and Bella, bro?" he asked me in his usual laid back tone, before taking a mouthful of his beer.

I tensed, took a hasty gulp of the umpteenth Heineken I'd drank that night, shrugging simultaneously, and almost friggin' spilling it all over me.

Of course, this only stirred his curiosity more. "You're watching her like a hawk. Has Jacob got you keeping tabs on her?"

I uttered a dry, humorless laugh before emptying the bottle of beer. "Something like that," I muttered.

When he didn't answer me, I turned to him; he met my gaze steadily, gauging me then flashing me a shrewd grin before appearing to abandon it. But I knew from that moment on I was busted.

My only alternative from that point was to clear Bella from my thoughts. My gaze left her as she chatted to Alice's grandmother.

I remained with the guys drinking and forcefully preoccupying myself, before deciding to forgo alcohol in place of soda for the time being. I was beginning to feel edgy and nauseous, but then that might have been due to the fact that the more beer my brother drank, the more lewd he became regarding his fiancé.

I'd downed three colas and two Mountain Dews, when I realized that nothing was going to desensitize me from the reality of Jazz's openly declared horniness. After the third successive "fuck she's hot. I could eat her tits," my legs propelled me forward almost autonomously.

I think I was heading in the direction of the bathroom, when "hot tits" herself intercepted me.

"Edward, you might have to save my sister in law. I'm afraid she's about to openly maim my cousin."

I only stared at her, feeling too completely drunk and disorientated, while having absolutely no idea what she was saying.

"Who?" I asked blankly, with and edge of annoyance.

She rolled her eyes, before grabbing the sleeve of my shirt and roughly shifting me around.

"Bel-la," she over emphasized Bella's name, pointing her out as she did so.

 _Sister in-law. . . ?_

Bella was dancing with a guy with an oily comb over, and I burst into impulsive laughter simply from the expression on her face, before I focused closer.

The oily asshole was subtly attempting to draw Bella closer to him, while barely disguising the fact that he was drooling over her breasts.

Okay, _that_ I didn't find funny at all, and I suddenly found myself striding determinedly towards them.

By the time I reached them, the sleazy bastard was inching his hands further down Bella's lower back while his mouth was practically making contact with her chest.

She was furious, and a small part of me wanted to hang back for a moment and watch her reaction. Bella was pretty good at looking after herself, after all, but there was just no way I could stand around while this asshole openly sleazed over her.

It was hard enough when I had to witness Jake doing it. . .

I shoved him sideways, disentangling him from around Bella, before taking her in my arms in one motion. She seemed to pull up short, startled, while again her entire body tensed in reaction.

"Thought you could use some rescuing," I said to her, trying not to laugh as she only stared at me, blinking repeatedly while her mouth opened and closed like a cod fish.

She mumbled out something incoherent, while her face slowly burned beet red, and the palms of her hands quite literally sprung a leak.

I chuckled unconsciously, before gently pulling her further against me.

She took several deep breaths, expelling them as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, before seeming to ease up a fraction. Curving her hand around my back, and leaning slightly against me, she rested her chin on my shoulder and sighed again.

I was struggling and unsure of myself, while thanking God that I had several beers in my system. Being drunk practically guaranteed me protection from the very real embarrassment that Bella would become alerted to more than just my sweaty palms.

I turned to face her, knowing that if she continued to breathe her hot scented breath against my neck, not even the fact that I was half drunk would save me from the inevitable.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, Miss Swan?" I attempted to tease her, to distract myself from the reality that each breath she took that washed over my skin only fed the energy that was growing rapidly within me. But the tone of my voice was a giveaway; I was horny and drunk and little else.

"You going to stop bothering me, Mr. Cullen?" she mumbled softly, continuing to rest her chin against my shoulder.

This made me grin, effectively giving me the distraction I needed. "Mmm, nup," I murmured, teasing her further while inching my face closer to hers.

Not smart.

Exhaling once more, she pulled back to look up at me. She gazed up at me with the same familiar trust and tenderness I was used to, that I felt the warmth of my smile come naturally.

It only broadened hers, putting me in further jeopardy.

"Well then, I don't know what to say," she answered before that smile of hers became snared between her teeth.

Deep breath. Keep control. . .

Of course, throwing caution to the wind, I decided to openly flirt with her. "Okay, I'll see if I can guess."

Her head tilted slightly to the side, her smile becoming wry again. "Kay. . ."

I broke her gaze, pressing my lips together in thought, while half-heartedly attempting to remain in some kind of control.

I met her gaze again, grinning as I spoke, "You broke a fingernail."

I was completely succumbing to her, while silently praying that being as drunk as I was my flirting would skewer off as goofiness.

Her expression piqued playfully, before she moved into me, nudging me—doing some kind of fucking dirty dancing movement— _directly_ against me.

It took the breath out of me, and in my attempt to keep my composure, I almost suffocated. I coughed it back, clearing my throat and my thoughts desperately, but I was barely hanging on. The energy within me had shifted my mindset, and I was about to react to it.

My hands slipped to the tops of her arms and I pulled her back slightly, when she curled herself back against me and . . . started crying.

My heart paused, and I immediately stopped moving. "Hey?" I asked her gently trying to see her face—that she kept pressed against my shoulder. "Bella?"

She took a breath in and shuddered out another sob, and I immediately began to feel tense in my concern for her. Tense, and rapidly becoming pissed off.

I could count the number of times Bella had cried in front of me on my hand. This was the third time, and it wasn't any easier to bear than the previous two.

Pulling her flush against my chest, I enfolded her in my arms, fuming inwardly, at what that bastard, Jacob, continued to do to her.

It quickly became obvious that she was crumbling fast, so wrapping my arm securely around her shoulder, I led her carefully off the dance area. She kept herself curled against me, protecting herself from view, while holding onto me with fistfuls of my shirt clamped in her hands.

I walked her away from the party to the very rear of the property behind the house, where it was relatively quiet and secluded, but she continued to sob, unabated. This wasn't something I'd ever witnessed from Bella before. Even during the worst of her and Jacob's fights, she never ever got this upset. She'd usually suck it up and fume away for a while, calling him every name under the sun, before she'd shrug it off. So, to see her so vulnerable and in pain, really bothered me—and made me feel pretty fucking irate, simultaneously.

We reached a garden bench completely out of view from everyone at the party, and carefully I eased Bella down on it, before sitting beside her. She hastily, and clumsily, began to dry her tear-streaked face and eyes, taking huge lungfuls of air as she did, that caused her entire frame to quake.

She was so pitifully adorable, that I found myself openly smiling to myself. That was until I caught sight of her eyes; they were completely immersed, to their very depths, in pain.

What the fuck had he done to her?

I took a deep, angry breath, letting myself calm naturally before I spoke. Bella seemed no closer to calming herself, and witnessing her crying to this extent quickly eased my anger.

Taking both her hands in mine, I coaxed her gently to look at me. She gazed tentatively up at me, as the tears continued to spill quietly down her face.

"Talk to me, Bella," I encouraged her softly, squeezing her hands gently.

She only stared up at me for a moment, her expression lost, before she shook her head lightly and broke eye contact. "I'll be okay." Her voice broke and she shrugged her shoulders, helplessly.

Sighing, I moved closer to her on the bench, feeling the warmth of her body as I did. I expected her to be cold, and was surprised when I could feel how much heat she was emanating. But then, to completely contradict me further, she shivered.

"Bella, I know this has something to do with Jake," I pressed her, delicately.

"How do you know?" she asked in a quiet voice, looking down at her hands.

I almost scoffed. "Because, when you're upset, he's always behind it. So, what did he do to you now?"

She took a tense breath, and her lips thinned as if she was contemplating a sarcastic remark, but she refused to meet my eyes; and her hair was beginning to slip in front of her face.

Reaching over, I gently tucked a strand of it behind her ear, urging her to look at me; which she did, with wide, afflicted eyes.

I smiled at her; it was completely involuntary, and yet it seemed to cause her eyes to well with fresh tears.

"It's not him this time, Edward. It's me," she admitted in a shaky voice that quickly grew with frustration. Then yanking her hands from mine, she pressed them roughly to her eyes, wiping them aggressively. "Look at me, I'm pathetic," she added with a muffled voice as she continued to attack her face with the palms of her hands.

I felt my face soften and the tension in my shoulders lessen. This was more like the Bella I knew and loved; irrational and slightly crazy Bella.

Resisting the urge to smile, I reached over and took her hands back into mine, revealing a pitiful, blotchy faced, Bella that was almost comical in the skimpy little outfit she was wearing. "You're not pathetic, Bella."

"You're always laughing at me!" She huffed, and her expression immediately darkened, as if she was on the verge of a tantrum. I actually kind of hoped she would. There was nothing funnier than Bella in full feral, hissy fit mode; it'd definitely lighten things up.

"I'm not laughing at you," I insisted, trying my damnedest to come across as sincere and not break into laughter. But, I could feel my face aching with it, and I knew I was failing miserably. So, with the thought of Bella stomping on my balls with those ten inch heels she was wearing becoming a frightening reality, I quickly attempted to redeem myself. "It's just . . . you're so damned adorable sometimes."

SHIT!

After eternally cringing to myself for what felt like an hour, I braved a glance at her, and her expression came as a complete surprise to me. She was only staring at me, with those freaking eyes of hers pulling out no stops on guilt inducement. She appeared hurt, and yet she didn't, while her mouth fell open slowly, before she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

For another couple of seconds this is how she continued to gaze at me; teeth clamped down on her lower lip, as her all-encompassing eyes steadily flooded with tears.

"You can't say that to me, Edward," she whispered.

This is when something shifted within me, and in one blinding moment, realization hit me.

She wasn't hurt by what I'd said—or embarrassed, or uncomfortable; she was moved.

It was complete bullshit, carried further into reality only by the amount of alcohol in my system, but right then, at that moment, nothing seemed clearer.

Reaching out, I delicately wiped her tears away with the back of my fingers. My hand was trembling almost pathetically, but since Bella's eyes remained fused with mine, I was confident that she hadn't noticed. "Why not, it's true," I spoke softly.

Shit, I was beginning to feel like my brother, becoming consumed with sappy, horny thoughts about this girl in front of me; my best friend's girlfriend.

Her focus wavered, and her expression began to crumble. Then, taking a final shuddering sigh, she closed her eyes, and dipped her forehead gently on my shoulder.

I acted without thought, and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her more gently against me.

"Why is it, Edward. . ." she began, her tone completely miserable, "that you find me adorable, but my boyfriend doesn't?"

I tensed for a moment, before letting the inevitable settle over me; the inevitable that I was at the complete mercy to her. I pressed my lips against the top of her head, taking in the sweet, suffocating scent of her shampoo, before quickly expelling it. I was drunk enough on her, after all. "Because your boyfriend is a _dickhead_ ," I replied with a little too much conviction behind my words.

And, yep, of course she noticed. It seemed Bella didn't miss a damn thing when it came to me.

Pushing herself back from my chest, she hastily wiped her eyes, before carefully gauging mine.

I inwardly cringed again, almost conceding to the fact that I was totally busted, when she decided to further stump me.

"Edward, why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Oh, hell yes, she was onto me.

Breaking into a conceding grin, I looked down for a moment, before deciding to just own it. Meeting her huge, deep-seated eyes, I admitted truthfully, "It's a bit hard to find one when I spend my weekends with a gorgeous brunette."

Well, I guess I was out of the closet.

She continued to gaze at me intently, reading every damned thing in my soul, before she placed her hand tenderly to my cheek. "Do I get in the way?"

Taking her hand from my face, I brought them to my lips, steadying myself for a moment, before shaking my head. "No, I actually prefer to just hang with you—and Jake," I stammered, lying like an asshole, and frowning to myself.

She only continued to stare at me, her face undergoing a multitude of expressions in that one moment, before she seemed to settle on what I could only conclude was determination.

But for what?

Then biting into her lower lip again, she suddenly asked, "Edward, are you . . . gay?"

At first it didn't register.

Gay? As in . . . _gay_?

The hell?

I was up and off the bench before I made the conscious decision to move.

 _She thinks I'm gay?_

 _After all this time?_

 _FUCKING GAY?_

"WHAT? No, I'm not _gay_!" I snapped, looking down at her and for the first time in four years wondering exactly why I thought she was so damned beautiful . . . and gorgeous—

FUCK!

She gazed up at me, half shaking her head, her eyes taking on a remorseful, panicked edge. "I'm so sorry!" she burst, jumping off the seat beside me. "I-I don't really know why that came out of my mouth."

What the hell? Was she still contemplating it?

I wanted to laugh bitterly. Instead, I drew in my breath sharply, in a pitiful attempt to mask how hurt I was beginning to feel. "Why would you think I'm gay, Bella?" I asked her, with the hard edged tone remaining in my voice.

For a moment she only stared at me, her entire expression pleading with me. But to _what_ , though? To understand?

I didn't.

"You've had one girlfriend in four years and you hang out with me and—" she broke off suddenly, her eyes lowering.

Oh, yes I fucking did!

I broke into a humorless laugh. "Because I haven't fucked my best friend's girlfriend, you think I'm gay."

She practically flinched away from me, and I took it as an admission of guilt.

I was so in love with her, I was ready and willing to stab my best friend in the back, and all along she thought I was gay.

"You think I have no self-control, Bella?" I demanded with a stone cold voice.

I couldn't remember ever feeling so pissed at her before. Or so fucking hurt. . .

Sighing heavily, I bowed my head and ran my hand stiffly back through my hair, frustrated.

I was beginning to feel like a world class idiot.

Bella was almost in tears again, this time from obvious remorse, only it wasn't moving me anymore.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she murmured softly, dropping her head and releasing her breath guiltily. "I don't think you're gay at all. It wasn't what I meant to say."

Damn it, it _was_ moving me.

"What did you mean to say then?" I asked her, feeling suddenly defeated—and fucking ridiculous—but I was no longer angry.

She half shrugged as a small, playful smile shadowed across her lips. "I don't know. I guess I was wondering why someone as amazing as you hasn't been snapped up yet."

Okay, this was just flat out fucked up. She was playing mind games with me, and I had to get away from her—and quickly!

I was on the verge of walking back to the party without her, when she mumbled in a weepy voice, "Just ignore me. I'm sorry."

Sighing in resignation, while completely conceding defeat, I pulled her back against me, slinging my arm over her shoulder.

"The question isn't whether I'm gay, Bella, it's what's going on with you." Just hearing myself say it, brought an edge back to my tone, and this was despite the fact that I was already crumbling with Bella, _the whore_ , in my arms again.

"Edward, are you going to hold a grudge against me? I said I didn't mean it!" she snapped in sudden irritation, shoving my arm from around her.

I really had no idea what went through this girl's mind. One minute she was flirting with me, the next she was throwing herself all over me, and then she was questioning my fucking sexuality while getting pissed at _me_ for getting pissed off over it.

She was completely screwing with my mind, and I didn't have the first clue whether she was doing it deliberately.

"Do you want to tell me what's got you riled up, Bella, or do you want to eat?" I asked her flatly.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she mumbled, succumbing to guilt again.

This weepy Bella was new to me, and despite pissing me off and insulting me to the point that if she was male I would have knocked her out, I broke into a scoffing, good-natured grin.

"Apologize one more time and you will be," I bent down and threatened her teasingly, and there staring back at me was the white, soft, fleshy skin of her breasts.

Oh, shit. . .

I was wavering, physically.

Then with a final huge, drawn out breath, she finally admitted what had been bugging her all evening, "I broke up with Jake today."

It definitely helped snap some coherency back into me. I studied her expression for a moment, trying to see past all the bullshit and work out if this time she was any more serious than all the other times she'd decided that her and Jake were over. I couldn't see anything, and I scoffed with just as much bitterness as cynicism. "Yeah, okay. How long for this time?"

This seemed to really piss her off, and almost immediately her face darkened. "What did you think was going to happen with Jake and me, Edward? That we'd end up getting married, then you and I would hang out baking cookies, and raising my babies, while Jake continued screwing half the country?"

"You know about that?" I asked her in disbelief, while I don't think there was any possible way that I could hide the guilt from my expression.

She scoffed in resignation. "Of course I know. Seems you do too."

She didn't seem angry at me, which surprised me. She had every damn right under the sun to be pissed off with me, and yet she appeared completely accepting of it.

And I felt like a giant asshole.

"Bella . . . I. . ." I abandoned it, reaching up to rub the back of my neck, awkwardly, too guilt ridden to meet her gaze.

"Edward, it's okay," she reassured me. "I realize what a position it put you in. I don't blame you or anything for not telling me, and I pretty much knew all along anyway."

I suddenly remembered, all over again, exactly why I was so in love with her. But, it immediately presented me with a whole new set of questions.

Meeting her gaze again, I only stared at her for a brief moment, feeling my brow creasing deeply with confusion. "Bella . . . why did you stay with him for—i-if you knew?"

She sort of shrugged as if it wasn't terribly important, when I could see by the emotion flooding in her eyes, how much they contradicted her.

"I don't know. . . Denial, I guess. Plus, I didn't want to have to let . . . everything else go as well." Her eyes severed from mine and her expression, almost broke, before she looked down at the ground and released her breath.

" _Everything else_?" I prompted her, apprehensively, wanting to drag her into my arms again, but pulling out of it at the last moment.

She shrugged, again as if it was trivial, when her eyes told a completely different story. "We had a lot of good times, you and me—and Jake."

I smiled, reading more into her meaning than there probably was, but not caring. "That we did," I agreed softly.

"I'm gonna miss it," she whispered, again appearing close to tears.

I gazed down at her, feeling my heart grow heavy. It forced my mindset to switch; to contemplate her meaning further; to wonder. . .

"Bella . . . ?" My voice was barely a whisper, and I had no real idea what I was going to ask her.

But she interjected, quickly changing the mood between us. "Let's get something to eat. If I keep drinking on an empty stomach things will get ugly." And grabbing my hand she pulled me back towards the party.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading. I'm going to upload part 2 of Edward's POV in a couple of hours.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: part two. . . :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **Edward's POV Part 2**

Bella—Jesus—she was absolutely and completely screwing with my mind, and what made it worse was I was beginning to suspect she was doing it deliberately.

Did she _honestly_ think I was gay?

I guess that's what happens when you harbor feelings for someone who is completely unavailable. You end up coming across as gay.

What did it matter, anyway? In a week I'd be gone; I'd be a hundred miles away in Seattle, and really, would I ever see her again after that?

I really doubted it. I wasn't planning on returning home often, and since Jazz and Alice were moving to Port Townsend after their wedding, and with my folks retiring to Sequim, the chances of me returning to Forks in the near future weren't very high.

Bella would be the _only_ reason I'd return, but would I, in my right mind, return to a town to see a girl who only ever saw me as little more than the gay friend of her imbecile boyfriend?

Fuck, when I put it that way. . .

The only question is, though, could I leave without telling her what she means to me?

Jesus, just leaving without her ever knowing was going to shred me. If I told her—fuck, I couldn't tell her. Besides, did I really want to look like _more_ of an asshole before I left?

If I did tell her and she demolished me, then, at least it would give me no reason, what so ever, to ever have an excuse to return.

No, I couldn't tell her; it was as simple as that.

I brought the bottle of beer, I'd been subconsciously drinking, to my lips just as I was slapped on the back, sending me half a step forward.

"S'up, dude?"

Jacob?

What the hell?

I turned around to see him standing beside me, looking pasty sick in one of his trademark three-sizes-too-small t-shirts.

He was such a dickhead.

Returning the bottle to my lips again, I smirked slightly behind it.

And Bella thought _I was_ gay.

Taking a gulp, I shrugged at the same time. "Not much. I thought you weren't coming?"

He coughed—without bothering to cover his mouth. "Well, since I'm out of this shithole next week, I figured I'd never see these asshole friends of Bella's again, and I should at least put in an appearance for your family."

I shrugged again.

"Fair enough," I muttered, downing the rest of my beer before wishing I could smash the bottle over his head.

"What are you so pissed about?" he suddenly demanded in his usual booming-fucking-loud tone.

"Bella knows you've been fucking around on her—great position it put me in," I replied, sounding more pissed off than I actually was. _That_ wasn't the reason why I was pissed, after all.

"She does, hey? Well, what do ya know. . ."

My entire body of muscles tensed in response. I brought the bottle of Heine to my mouth again, before remembering it was empty, and shoving it into his chest. "I'm getting another beer."

"Hey, get me a Brewsky?"

"Get it your fucking self," I grumbled to him over my shoulder as I walked back through the crowds to the drinks.

"Jeez, all right," he protested, dropping the bottle I'd shoved at him, before stepping over it and falling into step with me. "You don't have to act like a bitch over it."

I ignored him.

I grabbed a beer out of the ice bucket, not bothering with what it was, and flipped the lid off, while Jake rummaged around, whining over how cold his hand was getting. It was right about this time that Bella walked passed, heading toward the buffet table.

Jake stood up instantly, his head snapping in her direction, his eyes glued to her.

"What _THE FUCK_ is she wearing?" he exclaimed. "Her fucking tits are hanging out—Jesus!" He seemed incredulous, and his reaction only made it more obvious; Bella _never_ dressed like this.

At least, not for him.

"HEY _, MRS. CULLEN_?" Alice suddenly sang out, causing me to cringe from the screech to her tone.

"What do you want, Alice?" My mother piped up, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she spoke.

"Noooo—I mean _BELLA_!" Alice hiccupped, before beginning to laugh like a hyena.

"That girl is seriously missing a few marbles," Jake muttered, before plunging his hand back into the ice bucket, distracted for the time being from Bella and her revealing tits.

Mrs. Cullen. . . ?

I glanced over at Bella, my momentary confusion giving way to instant amusement. Her face was blood red, and her arms were up around her face as if she was hiding behind a non-existent jacket, as she hurried her step through the crowds.

I felt the grin edge wide on my face, on the verge of laughter, watching until I lost her from sight.

"What are you smiling to yourself about—hey, there's your bro. Be back in a sec." With a beer in his hand, Jake barged through the crowds, coughing loudly as he went.

I went in the opposite direction, following Bella.

I stopped several feet in front of her just off to the side, and watched her intently as she began stacking food on her plate, while every time she leaned forward over the table, I saw straight down her dress.

She was wearing a bra. Shit—I had no idea they came in such skimpy sizes. It was black, sheer, lacy and. . .

Fuck!

With an impulsive outward shudder, I took a hasty gulp of my beer, almost choking on it when I realized it was that crappy lite stuff. It was a good deflector from the rapidly growing erection I was on the edge of, but not quite.

Pulling my gaze from her, I stared down at the ground, focusing on the disgusting taste of lite beer in my mouth, while fighting in vain to get the image of those delicately sheathed breasts of hers out of my head.

When I looked up, all but conceding defeat, I searched for a tree to stand behind, just as oily sleaze came to stand in front of her, his eyes glued to her revealing chest.

Well, what did I expect? That no other guy would notice? She had to realize this when she put the damned dress on that afternoon, surely.

I kept my distance, knowing my patience with this asshole was wearing thin, and curiously deciding to watch and see how Bella would handle him herself.

In the next instant she picked up a stray cup sitting on the buffet table, and quite deliberately threw its contents over the sleazy bastard's crotch; making me inhale back my beer, before almost suffocating through my spluttering laughter.

"Oh dear, you seemed to have soiled yourself," I heard her voice float loudly over to me as I coughed back my choked throat, only to practically snort the beer through my nose.

With no other option, I skulled back half the bottle of beer, eventually clearing my throat, just as my eyes caught Bella's. She'd spun around after publically humiliating oily comb over, almost rolling her eyes, as a sly smirk ghosted across her lips.

This was the Bella I knew and loved. _This_ was the Bella who drove me nuts!

Taking another gulp of my beer, I could feel my mouth twitch with barely concealed laughter, even as I tried to fight it.

Yeah, yeah, she'd told me hundreds of times; I was always laughing at her.

Okay, I was, but at times like this it was hard not to.

This time around, though, my laughter didn't seem to bother her, while her smirk turned warm and affectionate the longer I held her gaze.

She motioned me towards her, and I crossed the distance in three steps.

"Okay, I've had enough of this shit, let's get drunk." She sighed, swaying into me slightly, making me suspect she was already well on her way there.

"Deal," I answered, my voice all but husky from my choking incident a moment ago—I was guessing. Or maybe it was from the fact that again I was staring straight down to her sheer covered breasts—

—and getting busted on camera.

As my eyes were fixed to Bella's chest, one of Alice's relatives in charge of videoing the event decided to focus the camera directly on us.

"Hey, eyes up here, Mister."

Shit!

Raising my head sheepishly, I reconnected with Bella's eyes, while the heat of my embarrassment burned to the surface of my face.

"Erm. . ." I mumbled, running my hand to the back of my head, feeling like that oily, sleazy bastard, but all she did was scoff softly into a knowing grin, and wave her hand dismissively.

"If I'd known my girls would have attracted the attention of the perverted Slavin brothers, I would have never worn this dress." And with that said, she openly grabbed both her breasts in each palm and tried to wrangle them back behind the tiny material of her dress.

Oh, Christ. . .

Waving physically, I threw back the rest of my beer, clearing my throat again, hoping to drive back the second fucking awakening in as many minutes.

Unless I passed out drunk tonight, I was going to have to take my damn erection into the shower and beat the shit out of it.

What else was knew; I'd been doing it every Saturday night, after I dropped Bella home, for over a year now. . .

"I don't usually dress like a skank, but this is my letting loose dress," Bella continued, offhandedly, staring down at her breasts and seeming satisfied with their position, before she looked up at me; with the casual demeanor as if she'd just wrestled with her breasts in front of another girl.

Jesus, she really did think I was gay.

"What?" she asked, her face contorting into confusion.

"Erm . . . I'll be back in a minute," I muttered, suddenly feeling flushed and needing a hasty retreat.

I didn't know where I was going, but it was Jake who stopped me before I found out.

"What the fuck is this shit I'm hearing?" he bellowed, before reaching out and grabbing a fistful of my shirt and pulling me closer to him.

"What?" I asked blankly, immediately defensive, before shoving him off me.

"That freaky little elf's brother just asked me how I felt about Bella leaving me for _you_!"

The way he spoke " _you"_ made the whole gay theory really seem plausible, only it didn't make sense. Actually, it was completely fucking ridiculous.

I scoffed openly. "Well, he's obviously full of shit, or drunk."

Jake was unconvinced, and the suspicion on his face didn't ease. He folded his arms across his chest and continued to glare at me. "He said that Bella herself told him fifteen minutes ago."

Bella told Emmett that she'd left Jake for me? Yeah, maybe on the planet of _I fucking wish_ , but not in this universe.

I scoffed again; he was such a moron. " _Fifteen minutes ago_ Bella was bawling in my arms about _you_ , you fucking idiot."

His back immediately straightened, and a cocky, drawling grin quickly drowned out all his suspicion. "Ha, I knew it. Where is she?"

Oh, hell no! There was no way I was allowing that to happen.

"She just went home," I lied; though, my irritation at him made it convincing.

"Did she? Well I was gonna bail anyway. Maybe I'll drop by and see if she wants to patch things up." He winked at me suggestively.

"She knows you've been fucking around on her, so I don't like your chances," I replied sarcastically, while for a moment I wasn't sure whether I was going to puke or punch him. I did neither; I was just glad that he'd bought the lie, when not five minutes ago he'd seen Bella himself in that revealing little black dress.

"How'd she find out?" he suddenly accused me, his demeanor instantly snapping back to suspicion.

"I didn't tell her, if that's what you're getting at!" Though, I wanted to numerous times, I didn't. I was a selfish asshole, and I was only concerned about losing what time I had with her on behalf of this idiot she was supposedly dating.

This idiot who was my best friend. This idiot I'd known since I was five years old.

Jake and I had met on our first day of kindergarten. A group of boys were giving me shit; I wasn't entirely sure why, but it probably had something to do with the fact that I was a half a foot shorter than all the other kids. It made me an easy target. I was cornered by four of them, trying to hold it together, when this huge kid barged through, taking them out like bowling pins. "Don't make me give you an ass wooping!" he threatened them as they scattered in all directions, before he turned to me and slung his arm over my shoulder. "Hey, I'm Jacob Black—wanna trade lunches?" he asked, and that was it; from that moment on Jake had been a part of my life.

Jake and his parents lived just down the road from us, and with his father in the military and often absent for months on end, and his mother notoriously addicted to prescription painkillers, and whatever else she could get her hands on, Jake spent a lot of his childhood growing up in our family. At one point, after one of his mother's failed rehab stints, he lived with us for a while. It just became a part of life to tolerate him as a member of the family; one I didn't have much in common with, or at times, who I didn't particularly like very much, but he was almost as ingrained in my life as Jazz was.

But we weren't eight years old anymore. He had his life, I had mine, and I didn't owe him a thing.

It was my plan to move to Seattle—explicitly for getting away from him and Bella. I had become this pathetic fifth wheel in their relationship, always in the background, until I had become too prominently involved in Bella's life.

After Bella almost drowned at La Push beach, something snapped with Jake. He was the one who broke away from the three of us, as if he was the one who had no place in it, instead of me. Every weekend he made excuses why he couldn't hang with us, while always insisting that Bella and I stay together. Eventually, he began setting up excuses midway through the week, for several weekends in advance, while at the same time booking Bella and me movie or club tickets.

I knew immediately what he was doing well before I confronted him about it. He was using me to keep Bella occupied while he fucked around, and I willingly went along with it. I got Bella to myself every Friday and Saturday night, and I continued the charade for that very reason.

But Bella was completely in the dark about it, and what made it worse was that she and Jake were still sleeping together. It made me sick to my stomach, and pissed off at myself simultaneously. I knew I was going to have to physically remove myself from the situation, and in order to be able to do that, I'd have to put a lot of distance between us. She had become too much of a temptation.

Eventually, feeling just as disgusted in myself as I was with Jake, I confronted him.

"If you're going to fuck around on Bella, then break up with her, because I'm sick and tired of babysitting her every weekend!" I'd burst angrily to him over my phone, when he'd called to set up another weekend for me and Bella.

"What do you mean 'you're sick of babysitting her'?" he'd demanded, not even bothering to deny the rest of it. "The two of you are like fucking girlfriends."

 _Girlfriends_ . . . I wonder whether he suspected I was gay, as well.

"Well, _Jesus_ , don't you think I'm entitled to a fucking life outside of you and your _girlfriend_ —and this is bullshit! Bella doesn't deserve this. Break up with her!"

There was silence.

I hung up.

Nothing changed. Jake went on fucking half the population of Washington, while Bella and I continued to spend every Friday and Saturday night hanging out together without him.

I knew I had to do something proactive to end the bullshit, so I called my Uncle. He'd been asking Jazz and I over the last couple of years to come up to Seattle and be partners in his club. I think he felt like he was in over his head with it. It was incredibly successful, but he'd made a rash decision to leave medicine and take the club on, and he regretted it. He wanted to go back to being the dutiful on-call doctor he'd once thought was holding him back—on a part time basis, at least.

I was the opposite. I hated my job from the first week I'd started it, but felt it was my duty to my parents to continue with it; considering, they'd paid for my college education. I got a job straight out of college without student loans hanging over my head like most people; I had no right to be miserable, but I was. What did I expect was going to come out of five years of studying music, but a career as a high school music teacher? I hadn't really thought my future through. I was seventeen and restless, and my father was shoving college applications in front of my face every day.

I went with what I knew; music.

To me, Bella was music. Every word out of her mouth was music to me—but at the same time, so was every tear she shed for this asshole before me. In fact, this whole bullshit tragedy of a threesome that I'd allowed myself to become a part of was one large symphony in my life. In soundtracks it was Titanic. I was Jack—and everyone knew how that turned out.

I had to leave for my own freaking sanity—and to give myself a chance at actually meeting someone and forming a healthy, _normal_ relationship.

"Well who the fuck told her then?" Jake's accusing, bellowing voice snapped my focus back to the present moment.

"She figured it out for herself," I said dryly, wanting to add what my students often said to one another—as well as to me, _"well duh"_.

It wasn't as if the asshole ever covered his tracks, or anything. I'd lost count of the amount of times I had strange women ringing me up thinking I was him. The bastard gave them my phone number as a blow off.

He remained still, gauging me skeptically. It was nice he had so much trust in me, but then he had probably long suspected what I felt for Bella. After all, what kind of moron babysat his best friend's girlfriend for more than a year, allowing it to compromise his own social life, without having some sort of vested interest?

Jake only continued to stare at me, his eyes becoming unfocused, his face beginning to twist into a bizarre, comical expression that left me completely lost as to what the idiot was thinking.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna hurl," he blurted out only moments before he bolted.

Releasing my breath, I shook my head, taking a precautious look behind me, before I went in search of Bella.

I found her on the dance floor with Rose. This was a sure sign she was drunk; whenever she willingly decided to dance. She had absolutely no coordination when stone cold sober, so add a dozen wines to the mix and it was a miracle she was able to remain vertical.

As I walked closer to the two of them, chuckling aloud to myself each time I spied one of Bella's flailing arms through the crowd, it soon became obvious that Bella wasn't dancing with Rose as much as she was using Rose _as a prop_ to dance. The only way I could describe it was that Bella was under the misapprehension that Rose was a pole. She had one leg hitched around Rose's hips, with a fist full of Rose's shirt, while dipping herself so far backwards that our eyes met while she was upside down.

I tried to smother my all out laughter, while attempting to cover up the outward fact that my groin was currently bursting into flames. But I had enough coherency to know that I was semi-drunk, and in this state, it was only a weak threat at best.

"Edward, you _gorgeous_ thing! Where have you been all night?" Bella half shouted, half giggled, and half hiccupped simultaneously.

"Considering this is obviously misdirected on me," Rose began with a dry laced tone, despite the fact that she was physically struggling to hold Bella upright, "do you mind at all intervening?"

"Sure," I replied, chuckling, as Bella continued to dance about while being completely upside down.

I took her hands and was almost pulled down on top of her as she righted herself. When she managed to pull her top half vertical again, she pressed herself flush against my chest, let out a huge vocal breath and went semi limp in my arms. Then, letting out a soft moan, she snuggled further against me, until I felt her lips caress across the base of my throat and felt myself immediately tense.

My eyes met Rose's; she was smirking knowingly at the two of us.

"Have fun, Roman," she said, before disappearing ahead of us.

Roman?

Jesus, I was becoming more and more confused as the night wore on.

" _BITCHFACE_!" Bella suddenly shrieked, her slurring semi-drunk voice muffled against my shoulder.

I pulled her more securely in my arms, before she raised her head and locked her deep, albeit bleary, dark brown eyes with mine.

"She calls us Marlena and Roman," she explained wryly, rolling her eyes, before dropping her face against my shoulder again.

"Okay. . ." I replied, completely clueless, before beginning to move us slowly and clumsily from side to side; considering we were standing still in the middle of the dance floor with Bella all but unconscious against me. "Bella, who the hell are Roman and Marlena?"

"Hmmm. . ." she hummed sleepily, nuzzling my skin with her nose and lips once more before lifting her head to meet my gaze. "They're these really lame-o, lovey dovey people in Days of Our Lives."

I broke into an immediate grin, before snorting it through my nose. "Really?"

She nodded her head. "Really"—she hiccupped—"really."

"Okay, but that really doesn't describe us—well, apart from you being ' _lame-o'_ ," I teased her gently, laughing as she elbowed me.

Her reflexes were pretty sharp, so she couldn't be _that_ drunk, I reasoned to myself.

Releasing her breath in one huge gush, she again rested her head fully against my chest. "I love you, Edward."

Okay, maybe not. Those were three words she'd never spoken to me before.

Shit. . .

"You don't know what you're saying, Bella," I replied stiffly, though barely audibly, before clearing my, suddenly jagged, throat.

"Oh, Edward. . ." She sighed. "It's going to kill me, you know. But it makes sense, since I _should_ be heartbroken. I'll just hang on to you for now."

Of course. It was all about fucking Jacob.

"You'll be okay, Bella," I replied, sounding deliberately sarcastic, and rolling my eyes slightly to myself.

She raised her head slowly from my chest and her eyes penetrated mine with an expression of wounded betrayal. "You really don't care, do you?"

Her eyes slowly filled with tears, while I was beginning to wonder if we were even talking about the same thing.

"Bella. . ." I began, but abandoned it with a frustrated sigh, before starting over. "Explain to me what you mean, because I'm beginning to feel really lost."

Her expression began to pique with irritation, and her tears, that were just moments from threatening to spill over, dissolved. "You don't know?" she accused me, which only confused me more.

I opened my mouth, but with no words, I simply shook my head.

"How can you not know?" she exclaimed, but it seemed more of a general statement than it was directed at me.

She was getting upset again, and I didn't have the first damn clue why. "Bella, just start over. Are you talking about Jacob?"

"No!" she burst on the verge of fresh, frustrated tears. "Edward. . ." But after making a rough sounding agitated noise, she let it go.

"What? Bella, help me out here—I'm completely lost."

Was I really this fucking drunk?

She shoved me, her tears brimming over, and I honestly couldn't tell if she was hurt or she was pissed off. "I'm talking about _you,_ you great, big, fucking. . ." She made the agitated sound again and dropped her head heavily against my shoulder.

I tried to prize her off me to meet my gaze again, but she refused to budge. "Bella, come on."

"Is it so hard to believe, Edward?" she asked in a fractured voice, with her face still pressed against me.

"Bella, this is nuts. What are you saying here?" I was beginning to get frustrated, and as a result my body began to tense.

Eventually, Bella raised her head, slowly, revealing a pitifully adorable tear streaked face. "I-I'm going to lose you, Edward, and I'm completely heartbroken. How hard is that to understand?"

 _Not hard at all_ , I thought to myself, while my senses began to haze from a mixture of confusion and denial. My rational side kept reminding me that she was drunk, even as her eyes remained locked with mine, searching and pleading.

I was lost for words, mainly because my semi drunk, compromised brain insisted on making sense of this when it made absolutely none.

"I'm sorry. . . Jake is your best friend. This is a shitty thing to do to you. I-I'm sorry, Edward, but. . ." She stopped to take a breath, becoming more emotional the more she spoke, before shaking her head and seeming to give up.

She was drunk, I reminded myself _again_. She had just broken up with Jake; she had absolutely no idea what she was saying.

I shook my head lightly to myself, hoping it would make things clearer, but Bella continued to gaze, deeply and hopelessly into my eyes with tears silently falling down her face. It was shredding my heart and I had absolutely no response to it; no answer.

I wiped her tears away gently, deciding that there wasn't much I could say to her, and what she really needed was comfort.

Since I'd long abandoned the semi movement that was our dancing, I pulled her back against me and encircled her in my arms.

She clung to me, desperately, her breaths coming out in shudders as she tried to conceal her sobs.

I dipped my head to her ear, feeling my heart begin to hike the longer she cried. "I promise you, you won't lose me, Bella," I spoke so resolutely to her that my voice came close to breaking.

She nodded softly in response without moving her head to look at me, and all I could see of her expression was her forehead as it creased more deeply.

I pressed my lips to her temple, and then again, beginning to feel anxious and uneasy.

This is when she moved in response. She turned her head toward mine, so that my lips grazed against her tear dampened face, almost connecting with hers.

"I've made a mess of everything," she spoke in a pitiful tone, her mouth so close to mine that her musky, sweet breath flooded my lungs as I inhaled.

"Of course you haven't," I replied, making my voice consoling and tender.

"It's against the rules to fall in love with your boyfriend's best friend," she whispered, only sounding semi coherent.

Okay—what?

 _What_?!

Okay, how the hell was I going to get a rational conversation out of this girl to explain _that one_ more to me?

When I didn't reply, she lifted her head, a small crick forming between her brows. Then taking a wavering breath in, she sort of shrugged, an ironic smile almost appearing on her face. "I'm not even sorry, really."

"Bella—I don't know how to respond to this," I spoke truthfully, with an edge of manic desperation. I was being engulfed with surging adrenalin to the point that I felt like light bulbs were bursting in my brain.

When her eyes met mine again they were sedate and solemn. "You don't have to say anything. Just do me a favor?"

"Anything," I promised her, my voice completely compromised.

"Since this is our last night as friends . . . kiss me."

I didn't have a moment of hesitation. Cupping her face in my hands, I angled her to me before closing my mouth over her slightly parted lips, completely and utterly surrendering.

In the middle of the crowded dance floor, at my brother's engagement party, I kissed Bella to the point that I almost suffocated on her. I groped her flesh in that slutty dress she was wearing, and I grounded my body against hers in an effort to pull her more closer to me, and in doing so, I let the monster of all secrets—something I hadn't confessed to a soul in four years—out of the bag.

I was crazy, madly, head over heels—all the fucking clichés—in love with my best friend's girlfriend.

* * *

 **A/N: Back to Bella next.**

 **Thanks for reading :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So, I suck! I completely forgot to update last week! Ugh, I swear I'm losing all my coherent faculties these days. In my defence it was the school hols, and I'm blonde. . .  
Anywho, I hope this chapter redeems me.  
MWAH xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 **Oh, What a Night.**

 **Previously:**

 _I curled my body further against him, before he rolled himself sluggishly on his back; pulling me on top of him as he did._

 _Laying my head on his chest, I closed my eyes again, so exhausted that I was sure I was drooling._

 _"There's no way I'm leaving without you, baby," he mumbled with a deep and heavy sigh._

 _My eyes instantaneously snapped open._

* * *

He was leaving.

How easily a couple of dozen orgasms had made me totally forget what had been completely traumatizing me for the last forty-eight hours.

There was truly no hope for me.

Swallowing past my moment of panic, I shifted myself up and propped my elbows against his chest. It wasn't easy, and my body slipped against his several times before I got a good anchor point.

"When are you leaving?" I asked, fighting desperately against the urge to crumble from what that one thought elicited in me alone.

He cleared his throat, curling his arms tighter around me. "I sign out from school Friday. I was going to leave Saturday . . . but Jake wants to have this going away . . . thing," he mumbled in explanation, dropping his eyes momentarily from mine.

This posed another question: how and when did we tell Jake?

While I was contemplating this, Edward repeated his last statement, his rustic voice thick with conviction, "I mean it, Bella. I won't leave without you."

I met his eyes and smiled tenderly, attempting to conceal the breath of desire that the gravelly tone of his voice had pumped into my suicidal snatch. I was beginning to think there wasn't a decent, decorous bone in my body. But as my thoughts lingered on it, while my gaze remained secured to the jade depths of his, the rational side of me—the side of me that had become more coherent since Celeste's semi-absence—began to worry.

Were we being too hasty?

Were we rushing into things?

Would we regret this later?

These were all normal things to consider, I guess. At least, if Jacob was still my boyfriend—or anyone else, for that matter—I would have considered them, but with Edward things were already so far beyond any relationship I'd ever had, that it felt trivial. Edward must have been feeling the same way too. He had, after all, asked me to leave with him seemingly without any of my reservations. Actually he didn't ask me, more than he confessed his feelings about leaving, twice.

I had to remind myself that Edward was male, post climactic, and with all probability, sporting dental marks on his Brigadier General; all things that would definitely compromise anyone's sanity. But regardless of whether Edward was just vocalizing his recent orgasmic highs, my concerns about moving to a new city with him were laughable compared to him leaving without me. They barely registered, but the very idea of Edward leaving threatened me with an avalanche of panic that would quite possibly cause Celeste to throw herself under a bus.

Even still, I just didn't want anything to compromise what we'd finally discovered with each other.

Again, that was my rational side speaking; Celeste's thought process wasn't anywhere near as cautious. I was pretty sure if Edward had asked me to marry him right now, I'd accept without a moment's pause. But then I was still fairly wantonly high, on such a grand scale that I doubted all my brain cells had renewed themselves to the point that I could be trusted to make decisions—other than ones of the carnal nature—with even the smallest amount of decorum.

So, deciding not to express what I was sure would be tainted by lingering lecherous energy, I lost myself further in the shrouded warmth of Edward's embrace, closing my eyes as his lips, tender and hot, planted themselves against my forehead.

"I won't ever let you go, Edward," I admitted as I released my breath, sounding slightly neurotic and needy, but letting it completely go as Edward's lips slid down from my brow to find and close over mine.

His kiss was brief, reminding me that he was exhausted to the point that his actions were almost drunken.

With a soft, breathy groan he laid his head back against the timber of the floor and closed his eyes.

Running my hand up through his damp, downy chest hair, I found the end of the tie that still hung firmly around his neck. I carefully removed it, while trying to squeeze shut my sadistic happy valley with my pelvic floor muscles, as my mind replayed scene two, take two of our wall romp.

It had definitely redeemed things, but I knew, at the back of my mind, I was still holding on to the impossible reasoning behind take one. . .

Closing my eyes, I buried my face against his damp, heated chest, and let the heavy thudding of his heart soothe my thoughts. Then, before I was aware of it, I found myself inhaling his scent deep into my lungs, before exhaling it with the stirrings of wanton energy.

I had completely underestimated exactly how much Edward would affect my erogenous zones—even after the flood gates were opened—to the point that they were on the verge of all systems failure. And I was Bella Swan; I had a Master's Degree in selling out my body to a drooling imbecile. But, despite being pretty sure that I had an indecent case of over-adventurous sex induced chafing within my tunnel of love, it was still enthusiastically poised on high alert.

I knew I had absolutely no sense of self-preservation when it came to my own depleted She-bits, where Edward was concerned. But for him, I was pretty sure that even a minor erection would cause him some kind of arousal induced brain hemorrhage.

 **. . .**

We lay against the floor boards in a puddle of sweat, until gradually, our bodies cooled. Edward was near unconscious and semi-asleep, as I snuggled further against him, listening to the heavy, steady beat of his heart, and his lungs as they expanded and collapsed.

Sex three times in two days—and twice without crying pitifully afterwards—with multiple orgasms that had caused me to scream Edward, and God's name—though, I knew it would give my father little comfort—repeatedly to the heavens.

And Edward loved me.

Even as he lay close to a sexual frenzied coma, the raw contentment of his expression validated it all.

He loved me.

Despite the fact that I was presently inundated by my pulse as it pounded furiously and achingly in my decrepit cooch, all I could envision from that moment on was making love with Edward, all over again; repeatedly, for the rest of my life, and knowing that with Edward, I would never ever be selling my self-respect out again.

The only downside was the lustful demon, known as Celeste, who had taken over half my reason, was no longer just a pseudonym for all my unadulterated desire for Edward. I had taken over the reins and had officially _become_ Bella Swan, whore incarnate and saboteur of life-long friendships. Because, in admitting his feelings for me, Edward had in all probability ended his twenty-year friendship with Jacob.

And I wondered how long I could distract him with faux-BDSM type sex sessions, before he would start resenting me for it.

At some time during the night, Edward dragged the two of us to his bed, where I slept more soundly than I had in over two years.

There was no nagging voice in my head reminding me that I was all but a prostitute; no moments of panic that would have me bolting upright in the middle of the night to check the status of McRoddy's battery life, and consequently, no anxiety attacks as I contemplated Rose's reaction to my midnight raid on all the T.V's remote control batteries. I slept deeply knowing that I didn't have to imagine the damp, heavy body lying half on top of me was Edward.

It _was_ Edward.

Finally. . .

 **. . .**

My Jezebel happy valley woke before I did the next morning, buzzing like a lunatic honey bee in response to the soft, husky sound of Edward's snoring, as it washed over my face; flooding me with the combined warmth of his breath and my suddenly growing arousal.

It was raining, as usual, and barely needing to squint in the dim light that the grey early morning offered, my eyes rested on Edward. He was still in a deep sleep, his face completely softened and relaxed against my shoulder. In fact, he looked so innocent and vulnerable that he almost appeared to be little more than a boy. His three-day stubble—turning into four—was the only physical evidence that he was, in fact, twenty-six years old.

Taking a long, sleepy, contented breath, I mentally bitch slapped my wantonness into submission, happy just to be in Edward's tender, warm embrace while listening to his unconscious, rustic breathing. To me it was music, and rainbows—and porn—all at once.

After all, the only sound of snoring I was accustomed to up until this point sounded like a wild boar on heat. Jacob couldn't even sleep like a civilized person, and his snoring was so loud, it used to attack all of my senses, making my accompanied cringes almost physically painful. It felt like fingernails scraping my brain, and was almost impossible to silence. My one consolation was the enjoyment I got out of testing ways to shut him up. Unfortunately the only thing that would stop that horrendous gorilla phlegm sound was jamming my fingernails into his scrotum, between his testicles; something that used to give me great pleasure, while making me want to dry heave simultaneously.

Scoffing to myself softly, I pressed my lips against Edward's silken chest in an attempt to smother my building shuddering groan at that vile memory. I was still so incredulous, to the point of total mortification, that not long ago, before I was so adverse and disgusted in Jacob, I actually found him more attractive than the man I was currently in the arms of.

No wonder Rose found so much amusement in me, and it was proof, if nothing else, that sex could permanently destroy brain cells.

And that I probably wasn't very bright to begin with.

Honestly, I should have just peroxided my hair and changed my name to Brittany—but maybe that was because Rose used to refer to me and Sasquatch as Kevin and Brittany from "Daria". Jacob never got it, of course, and continued to correct her every time she called him by the wrong name; to the point that he got suspicious that I was fucking around on him with a guy named Kevin.

You'd have thought at some point it would have opened my eyes to the fact that his triceps were bigger than his brain.

Thank God for Edward. If he hadn't been there to make me realize it was, in fact, possible to love someone for their inner soul as well as their body, I would probably still be with Jacob, crying every night after sex, while he snored like a grizzly bear on crack; while following him around during the day; all star-spangled, like a cognitively impaired groupie.

I think it was safe to say that I was never likely to rebound from my embarrassing faux pas with Jacob; sealing my fate as a constant object of amusement for both Edward _and_ Rosalie.

No wonder Edward laughed at me so often. How would he ever be able to take me seriously?

"At least I'm Marlena now and not Brittany," I muttered to myself, before pressing my nose further into Edward's warm, tender skin.

As I nuzzled my face against him, his soft, vocal breathing suddenly hitched before he expelled it all, groaning gently as he did.

"Bella. . ." he spoke with an adorably thick, croaky voice just moments before his eyes slowly opened and focused on mine, "why are you talking to yourself?" The edge of his mouth drew upwards, and I was suddenly torn between plunging myself onto him, and quite possibly suiciding in the same event, or jamming him in the ribs for proving my point and continuing to laugh at me even when he was barely awake.

Flashing him a cynical look, but before I could contemplate either, Edward completely redeemed himself.

"I know, I know, I'm always laughing at you." And then to validate it, he chuckled in a rustic, sleepy tone, cupping his palm gently to my cheek, and instantly my brain function flat-lined.

But let's face it, after the amount of brain cells that exploded the night before, if my brain had any intelligent activity, it'd be a miracle.

While I remained in a mute state of drool, Edward propped himself up and covered his mouth momentarily over mine.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, after he kissed me several times, briefly but tenderly.

I nodded and half shrugged in answer, grinning drunkenly, while telling myself that the stars I was presently seeing behind my eyes—the same stars that used to invade my vision every time I looked at Conan the Barbarian—were perfectly OK, considering this was Edward invoking them.

Edward wouldn't ever use me as a blow up sex doll in between gym sessions and football games—and I wouldn't let him, either—so it was completely okay. And Edward might have fucked me ruthlessly in a similar fashion as Jake, but he'd redeemed himself.

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

We were back on track, I told myself adamantly.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I lightly shook my head.

I figured if I unleashed the celestial demon of lust propagating between my thighs, it'd stop my mind from its sudden trajectory of over analyzing, but all my present desire was instantly vacuumed from me.

How ironic.

When I opened my eyes again, I caught the deep, jaded depths of Edward's below his rapidly piquing brow.

"What's the matter, Bella?"

 _I'm worried you, like Jake, will start treating me like a whore on dollar night,_ I answered his question mentally.

Okay, perhaps not.

Okay, scene two, take two of our wall romp was a raging success, but now I had to know what was behind Edward's behavior from take one, or I would never be able to let it go.

"I want to talk about Saturday night. I-I need to understand it," I explained, determinedly.

This time it was Edward's turn to close his eyes and groan. He bowed his head and ran his hand backwards through his hair, to the nape of his neck, before his eyes reconnected with mine. "All right, but not now, or we'll be late for work." He tipped my chin. "Okay?"

I nodded, being inundated by that warm fuzzy, feeling again—that I wasn't altogether sure wasn't just my two dollar hooker girlie region, perfectly disguising my horniness with fuzziness just to lure me into a false sense of security.

I was sure my IQ had dropped ten points the night before on orgasms alone, and I would have only clawed back no more than two points by dumping Rambo. I couldn't sacrifice anymore, or risk Edward's sanity, or the health of my already indecently chaffed hoohah, by succumbing to Celeste again.

"Kay. . ." I mumbled, feeling like I was going cross-eyed by the internal struggle my heart was having with my loins for supremacy.

With Edward there'd be no middle ground, and there'd be no doubt many an internal bitch-fight with Celeste over the simple pleasure of lying in his arms, or being ravished by his Fleet Admiral against the wall.

I could live with that; at least, this time I was actually getting a choice. A quick fuck with a butt clench was my only alternative prior.

Fuck my life.

Closing my eyes for the second time, I allowed Edward to pull me back against his chest, hoping that the steady, musical beat of his heart would kill the loud moan before it left my lips.

It did, thank God, because knowing my luck, it would come across as wanton, and poor Edward already had enough burst blood vessels in his eyes, to risk further damage to him.

Pressing his warm, supple lips to my brow, Edward sighed in a fractured way, and judging by the way his chest was jerking, I was pretty sure it was in a failed attempt to prevent himself from laughing.

What now? I sighed to myself.

"On Friday night, at Jazz and Alice's engagement party, you told me you'd fallen in love with me, and I'm pretty sure Emmett might have told Jake," he confessed, snorting out his obvious amusement through his nose.

"Mother fuck!" I blurted out, bolting upright, just as my heart stopped violently in my chest.

Of course, in my panic, the blanket that was covering me fell down to my hips, exposing my girls who were presently heaving up and down on level four glass-cutting mode. Edward only stared at them, his hand reaching for them, completely distracting me from my moment of mortification, his eyes turning dark and hungry.

Hello, Daddy!

But my lust quickly faded as my mind was reminded of Edward's admission.

Just before his fingers were able to graze the skin of my breasts, I slapped his hand away with growing irritation. "I told you I loved you and you _still_ fucked me like a whore!"

I yanked the blanket up around my chest defiantly, as Edward groaned, and dropped his face into his splayed palms. "Bella, I thought you wanted us to get past all that. Wasn't that what last night was all about?"

It was so hard to stay mad at him when he was staring at me with bloodshot, puffy eyes in all his early morning disheveledness; even when his eyes kept flickering down to my, now covered, chest.

"That was to stop you from feeling so terrible about it," I spoke quietly. "Your guilt over it was worse than my. . ." I paused unsure how I really felt over it. "I just have to know, Edward."

He nodded, rubbing the back of his head, and severing eye contact for a moment. "I know, baby, and I promise you that tonight I will explain everything." He removed his hand from his hair, and delicately tucked a stray strand of mine behind my ear, before cupping the nape of my neck and placing his lips tenderly against my forehead.

I nodded, conceding, and feeling myself relax a little. "I really did fall in love with you, you know?" I confessed softly, a coy smile twitching at my lips.

"I know you did," was Edward's gravelly toned reply, before he exhaled deeply, and moved his lips to mine.

He kissed me several times, never long enough for me to catch up with Celeste's momentum, before he placed his lips against my ear. "Okay, we have five-freaking-minutes before we have to get up and get ready for work, so will you just shut up and stop over thinking everything and let me feel you up?" And with that, Edward forced me back down on the bed, and covered his naked body with mine as his hands inched their way back to my homicidal-looking girls.

I closed my eyes, as my breath left my lungs in a gush—with only limited amounts of wantonness—as Edward's lips traveled gently along my face and neck before connecting with my parted mouth, while his fingers grazed every contour of my breasts, turning them ferocious.

I knew all we could manage was first base at best, and it was going to be a frustrating day ahead of me. But at least, I could console myself with the fact that, for the first time in six months, I wouldn't have to go home and overtax my manic depressant vibrator.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, apologies for the fail, but of course, thanks for reading. Leave me some love, ravenous flames, or lurk away, you lurky lurkers.  
MWAH xoxo**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter is what happens when one writes high as a kite on pseudoephadrine. Chronic hay fever (and Pepsi Max) can make for interesting writing lol.**  
 **Love you all.**

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

 **Facebook Status**

I went into work that morning with the most lecherous case of _hives_ I'd ever been afflicted with. This was despite the fact that being in post coitus operandi with the adrenaline rapidly wearing off, my hoo-hah was officially in traction.

I swear I was walking bow-legged, but among the chafing and heat rash—I no doubt had in epidemic proportions—I was experiencing a heightened sense of carnal indecency. It made me secretly fear that Celeste was no longer a euphemism for all my previously insatiable desire for Edward, and had officially amalgamated with my erogenous zones.

I took all calls in my unadulterated phone sex voice, while even the slightest breeze from the air conditioning turned my nipples into granite scalpels, practically tearing through my blouse with every breath I took.

It wasn't lost on the staff either.

Dr. Masen, coming to pick up a patient's record from the filing cabinet, glanced at me with a friendly smile, before pausing and slowly turning to gaze back at me.

"Do you need an anti-histamine, Bella?" he asked, peering at me over his glasses, as his brow fused closer and closer together.

It was obvious he was mentally trying to diagnose what kind of _hives_ I had—if any.

"No—I'm fine. Just allergies," I lied in a restricted, mortified voice, while my cheeks imploded.

Tanya, my boss, only raised an all-knowing, cynical brow in my direction and half smirked to herself, every time she passed me. In fact, by lunch time she was practically laughing at me, to the point that I got so paranoid I had to keep excusing myself to check my appearance in the bathroom mirror to see if my make out rash was still well hidden behind the concealer I'd applied that morning.

When I'd first caught my reflection in the mirror I almost went over backwards. The lingering sexual energy that was still circulating through my veins made me, at best, look like a lunatic tripping on some arousal inducing roofie. My eyes were too bright, my hair statically disheveled, while my "hives" were so salacious looking they were practically channeling a yeast infection.

Of course, it was something evidently not lost on the patients, as well.

Old Mrs. Stanley, giggled at me behind her doily handkerchief, when she came in for her bi-monthly arthritis shots, and openly asked if I'd recently had "intercourse".

I was literally lost for words, though Celeste was just itching to spill every lewd detail, as I attempted to conceal myself behind the printer as I waited for her insurance information.

Tanya snickered, blatantly, while I swear I heard Dr. Masen clearly start snorting back laughter, followed by a loud crashing sound; as if he was inconspicuously trying to conceal it.

"The doctor shouldn't be long," I mumbled out the standard response, as I placed her file in the queue and ducked my shamelessly incriminating face below the counter.

Of course, Mrs. Stanley then decided to discuss my post coital appearance as she waited to be called. Though it soon turned into a heated debate about the virtues of modern femininity with Mrs. Newton, one of the senior members of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club; who kept pointedly glancing at me, every time the words "promiscuous", "loose" and "unchaste" were used.

"I don't know how she expects to find herself a good husband," Old Mrs. Mallory not so subtly whispered in regards to my evidently pessimistic prospects.

"I hope she doesn't expect to wear white, if she ever does," Mrs. Newton haughtily added, harrumphing in my direction as I hid even further below the counter top; to the sound of Tanya's near hysterical laughter.

"Red would be more fitting—for a _scarlet woman."_

"It's her father, I pity."

"That poor man. It must be his penance to have such a daughter."

"Oh, I don't know," Mr. Weber spoke up, inserting himself loudly into the conversation. "I'd rather a girl I could _pound the meat with_ , than one of you stuffy old broads. Who was the lucky fella, lass?" he suddenly called over to me.

Kill me now.

"It wasn't that Black boy, was it?" he continued, when I failed to answer as I silently prayed for death behind the screen of my computer. "Nice looking lad, but not a hell of a lot upstairs, if you know what I mean."

"According to this, it was Edward Cullen. Isn't he a teacher at the high school?" Mrs. Mallory surmised, not even bothering to keep her voice hushed, as my head snapped up over the counter in reflex to Edward's name.

She was holding out a rather archaic looking smart phone, for the other old witches to see, opened to Facebook.

My heart stalled, as my mind raced to understand the implications of it.

How could anyone know?

"He's much too smart to get mixed up in the likes of _her_ ," was Mrs. Newton's snooty reply, as I whipped my iPhone out of my bag in growing panic, and clicked open Facebook.

"What would his mother say?"

I had one hundred and twenty-seven notices—one hundred and twenty-eight!

"Nothing wrong with the boy getting his leg over with a nice looking lass."

Fuck my life.

"I hope he's had his shots."

"I thought he was a . . . _homo-sexual_."

With the prevailing urge to pound my head into the desk before me, it was, needless to say, almost impossible to separate the open discussion of my wanton ungodliness—and the continued, echoed, laughter from Dr. Masen from inside examination room 1—from what was apparently taking place via Facebook.

But before I could find out, my phone beeped with a text message.

 **Marlena, you and Roman have been outed.**

Rose!

 **HOW!?** Was my near hysterical response.

 **Alice.**

"Edward Cullen. . . Not. Bad. At. All," Tanya murmured covertly in my ear, sounding genuinely impressed, as she passed my desk on her way to the photocopying machine.

And while Celeste almost agreed with her with copious amounts of hubris, I was temporarily distracted from the topic of our disclosure. At the mere mention of Edward's name in such a context, a lustful sounding moan passed involuntarily through my lips, just barely beneath my breath.

Not bad at all. . . It was an understatement on such a grand scale. Edward was so good my suicidal snatch would sure to be closed down for renovations for some time. Something that would no doubt put Celeste into therapy.

Mother of God. . .

Arousal immediately flooded me, despite the feeble protests from my convalescing cooch, and I was forced to cross my legs and force my focus back to the present happenings.

Still, the energy growing within me continued to distract me until I was suddenly feeling rebellious.

Glancing up, I intentionally caught Mrs. Newton's eye. "Oh, Edward's not gay. He's _far_ from gay!" I spoke up, dropping my voice suggestively, before I winked at her, with every innuendo I could manage—that had her reaching for her crucifix, with a blush that suddenly hinted that the old dragon wasn't nearly as virtuous as her Quilting Club membership suggested.

"Good for you, lass," Mr. Weber added, behind his bellowing laughter.

At that moment, Dr. Masen opened the door of the consultation room, his face beet red and twitching, in an obvious effort to suppress his laughter. "Mrs. Newton," he called in a restrained voice.

The old biddy "hmphed" disdainfully at me as she passed, while I chuckled openly to myself, once more clicking open my phone; suddenly not as concerned that Edward and I had been "outed", as I was a moment ago.

One hundred and forty-three notices, forty-five, six, seven. . . All from a single post.

With impassive curiosity, I clicked on it.

"Motherfuck!" I blurted, in a semi-concealed mutter, before the collective outbreak of "tsking" echoed throughout the room, followed by a flippantly reproachful throat clearing from Tanya; which I ignored in light of my renewed panic.

It had indeed began with Alice, and had then quickly escalated.

 **Bellllllssssssssss,** she'd written on my wall in the typed equivalent of her screechy enthusiasm, **I knew you and Edward would get together. I'm soooooooo happy for you. Seeeeeeeeee, we will be sisters!**

This was, of course, followed by Rose: **I'm not sure Marlena and Roman have announced the happy news yet, Alice.**

And then Jake: **Who the fuck is Roman and Marlena? Has she fucked Edward?**

And again, Alice: **OMG HOW DO I DELETE THIS? HELP ME! I'M ON MY PHONE!**

Jake: **YOU WHORE!**

Rose: **Well this just got a whole lot interesting.**

Jake: **My best friend, you SLUT!**

Charlie: **Isabella, please reflect on this verse. 1 Corinthians 6: The sexual immoral person sins against his own body.**

Rose: **And this one too, Marlena. 1 Corinthians 7: it is good for a man not to have sexual relations with a woman.**

BITCH!

Charlie: **Very good, Miss Hale. Your parents should be proud. I have not seen you in service for a while.**

Emmett: **she calls out to God every time she's with me ;) ;) ;)**

Rose: ***facepalm***

Alice: **OMG SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO DELETE THIS!**

Obscure member of the Ladies of the High Esteem Quilting Club: **she always did have a wanton streak in her.**

Jake: **Just hit delete, you idiot.**

Alice: **STFU JAKE! I'M GLAD SHE'S FUCKING EDWARD!**

Rose: **Alice, hun, you might want to stop there, and ixnay on the shouty caps.**

Jake: **I'm gonna kill him!**

Jessica Stanley: **Edward Cullen. Pffft what does he see in Bella? An easy fuck maybe.**

Charlie: **Bella I am extremely disappointed in you. Didn't we discuss this? I thought you had decided to remain celibate until you were married?**

Jake: **CELIBATE HA! THAT'S A FUCKING JOKE!**

Rose: **Marlena, when you see this, I think your father just blocked you.**

MOTHER OF GOD!

My hand swung down, reefing out the second drawer of the desk, before I dragged my emergency paper bag—for moments such as these—and promptly asphyxiated into it. My heart was hammering—in such a heighten degree of panic—pumping blood so rapidly through my system, that my rampantly chafed happy valley began pounding with it, confusing Celeste so much the bitch was getting whiplash.

I began wheezing, and with the paper bag remaining fixed over my mouth, I continued reading—despite my better judgement. But it was the proverbial train wreck that I couldn't look away from.

Jazz: **LMAO! Can someone pass the popcorn?**

Obscure member from the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club: **Can one of you kind girls show me how to block as well? I no longer want Miss Swan as a member of our Righteous Ladies of Forks group.**

Jake: **Righteous. HA! How the hell did she ever get accepted into that group?**

Obscure member from the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club: **It was at the behest of her father, dear.**

Jessica Stanley: **HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

Angela Weber: **Oh dear, but Congrats Bella. You and Edward will be a great couple.**

Alice: **BELLS I'M SO SORRY. POOR EDWARD!**

Rose: **Alley, caps lock is still on, babe.**

Alice: **FUCK!**

Obscure member from the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club: **Does all your mothers know you young people use this kind of language?**

Jazz: **LMGDFAO.**

Jake: **FUCKING WHORE!**

And then it got worse.

Mrs. Cullen: **Alice, can you kindly figure out how to delete this post? Please. Edward's students are currently spamming his wall with congratulations, and other such improper comments. Bella, what's this about you and Edward having sex on the La Push beach in public?**

Jake: **WHAT THE FUCK?**

Rose: **Jazz, you got that popcorn?**

Emmett: **Bellaaaaaaaaaaa. Too bad you haven't rubbed off on Rosie like that ;) ;) ;)**

Rose: **You wish, you pig!**

Jazz: **Mom! You're supposed to PM that kind of info. And Alley cat . . . that gives me an idea. . . *passes popcorn to Rose***

Alice: **JUST SAY WHEN AND WHERE, LOVER. . .**

Jake: **TURN YOUR FUCKING CAPS LOCK OFF!**

Rose: **Give him a moment. . .**

Obscure member of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club: **Public acts of lewd conduct? I don't know how Miss Swan can show her face at church!**

Jake: **she probably takes her vibrator with her.**

Emmett: **So that's what that buzzing sound was ;) ;) ;)**

Rose: **As if you've ever stepped foot in a church, Emmett! But Bella does call to God with her vibrator an awful lot. :P**

My face expeditiously exploded into flames of absolute mortification. The bitch obviously gave no consideration to the fact that my boss was in all probability reading this from inside his examination room—judging by the barely suppressed chuckling I could hear—not to mention Tanya, and Mrs. Mallory on her decrepit old phone, sitting three feet away from me.

It would explain the reason why she was suddenly and repeatedly making the sign of the cross with sanctimonious devotion.

Old cow!

And still, I continued reading.

Obscure member of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club **: Can we not bring God into this, Miss Hale.**

Jake **: GOD DAMN FUCKING WHORE!**

Rose: **That was actually pretty funny, Jake.**

Jake: **Thanks. How long have you known about it?**

Rose: **Two years.**

I gasped, audibly, almost shrieking it in disbelief with growing sentiments of anger.

BITCH! How could she?

Jake: **TWO YEARS!** **FUCKING SON OF A WHORE!**

Rose: **Bells, your friend count is going down faster than the Titanic.**

Alice: **Good riddance to the old dingbats!**

Charlie: **This dingbat hasn't blocked my daughter.**

Alice: **OH FUCK, NOT YOU Reverend Swan!**

Rose: **Go home, Alice. You're drunk.**

Obscure member of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club **: Are you drinking on the job, Miss Brandon?**

Jazz: **I'll give her a good spanking when she gets home, Mrs. Jenks.**

Alice: **Looking forward to it, lover.**

Rose: **Oh, get a room you two!**

Mrs. Cullen: **For the love of God, can someone please pull the plug?**

Jazz: **Babe, Edward is throwing a fit. He wants you to delete this, now.**

Edward!

 **Alice: I CAAAAAAN'T! HELP ME.**

Obscure member of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club: **Just hit delete, you silly girl.**

 **Jake: YOU ACTUALLY FUCKED MY BEST FRIEND YOU WHORE!**

Jessica Stanley: **HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. And I thought today was going to be boring!**

My phone rang, blessedly giving me a reason to pull my eyes from the continued carnage that was once my standing—albeit dwindling—in the good community of Forks; where my father would henceforth be forced to give his sermons wearing a paper bag over his head.

Edward!

"Bella," he sounded weary, his voice still lusciously rugged from the night before—that Celeste promptly ripped the same paper bag off her head, and started flicking switches. Something began buzzing, and it wasn't my vibrator—"it's out in the open. Jake knows—everyone knows—and he's pissed."

"I know. I'm reading it now," I replied, with a sigh, peeking up over the counter only to be immediately "hmphed" at by old Mrs. Mallory. "Stupid old biddy." I muttered unwittingly to Edward.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

"Our public acts of _'lewd conduct'_ is presently being discussed in the waiting room," I explained in a lowered voice, repeatedly huffing in impatience, "while the old battleaxes can't work out how someone as smart as you could get yourself mixed up with such a ' _scarlet woman'_. Only Mr. Weber is on my side, and only because he can empathize with you _'getting your leg over'_."

Edward laughed, the deep, gravelly sound of it washing over the receiver and immediately placating my swelling irritation in an instant; while the resulting energy once more burned indecently along my body of skin.

"It really isn't funny. . ." Celeste answered on my behalf in a licentious rendition of the phone sex whore.

"You're not getting a cold, are you, Bella?" he asked, his tone suddenly dropping in concern.

Clueless to the point of making it an art form. It was lucky he was so adorable, but then it was probably a good thing that he wasn't too privy with my celestial alter ego, of crowd splitting biblical prostitute. It was bad enough that he in, all probability, still harbored suspicions regarding the level of my intellect and/or self-respect, from the four years I'd spent as Jake's pocket pussy.

Even worse, the two years when I was his pocket pussy and was proud to say so.

I was willing to bet it was the result of my earlier years of pimping myself for Jackie O; something which had obviously cost me more brain cells than I'd first presumed.

"I'm fine," I asserted simply, shuddering inwardly from the continued reminder of my pre-Edward years.

"Oh, Jesus, this is a train wreck. . ." he suddenly muttered, sounding distracted.

"What are you reading—Alice's post on my wall?"

"Yeah," he mumbled in admittance. "Did you see the comment Jake made about you taking a vibrator into church?"

"Yes," I answered through my teeth.

"Honey . . . your boss _liked_ it."

Fuck me into a coma.

I groaned, beneath my breath at first, until it quickly became audible and filled with crippling mortification. "Oh my God. . ."

"I tell you what, I'm not going to continue to put up with Jake calling you a whore," he suddenly seethed, darkly, sounding as though he was distracted again, as he evidently continued to scan the posts.

"I'll delete it in moment. I kind of got distracted by reading it?" I admitted, dryly.

"Yeah," he empathized with me, sighing heavily. "I've been deleting posts from my wall all morning, and I've been getting 'high fives' by the kids all day." He didn't sound impressed by it.

"What are we going to do about Jake?" I asked, just as Mrs. Jenks approached the counter, her expression little more than scornful.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady—bringing such disrepute upon your father the way you have!"

I groaned again, this time for the benefit of everyone in the waiting room, including Dr. Masen and Tanya; my patience finally imploding. "For your information, Mrs. Jenks, there was _NO_ public act of lewd behavior," I snapped back at her, making her balk, "and I'd kindly appreciate it if you'd stop dragging me and my boyfriend into your petty idle gossip. What I do in my private life is none of your damn business—I'm looking at you, Mrs. Mallory!"

It was met by widespread outrage and collective harrumphing—and of course raucous laughter from Mr. Weber, but I was once again distracted by Edward's gentle, rustic chuckling on the other end of the receiver.

It once more soothed my mind, instantly reversing my mood, turning it inevitably back to a lecherous inclination, with accompanied bone crushing nipples.

"We'll talk tonight, baby," he promised, his tone remaining tender.

"Goodbye, handsome," I breathed into the phone, with added innuendo for both his and Mrs. Jenks' benefit, before I hung up the phone and winked at her.

Another harrumph, as the old troll remained standing before me, with her handkerchief covering her mouth as if to prevent her breathing in shared oxygen with me—lest she be afflicted with the same unfortunate "wanton streak".

"May I help you?"

"I have a 2pm appointment with Dr. Masen," she replied, loftily, shoving her nose further northward.

I coughed loudly with the deliberate intention of infecting her with my implied chlamydia affliction, before clicking the required buttons on the keyboard for her print out.

"The doctor will see you soon." I smirked. "Oh, and Mrs. Jenks . . . ?" I lowered my voice and inclined my head for her to lean in closer. "I really _do_ take my vibrator to church, and Dr. Masen _approves_."

She gasped, clearly appalled, going ten shades whiter, before staggering over to the set of chairs by the wall, hyperventilating into her doily.

A moment later, another text message came through. I glanced down, continuing to chuckle just barely beneath my breath.

It was from Edward.

 **I'll deal with Jake later. I don't want you worrying about it.**

And then another thirty seconds later: **wanton streak or not, I still love you.**

* * *

 **A/N: Uh-oh. . .**  
 **Thanks for reading, and send me some love/hate/indifference or flounce** — **whatever's your poison.**

 **MWAH xoxo**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So, peeps, a disaster happened. After a dodgy copy of Office 365 I subsequently lost all my files. I mean all of them. The Friend Zone and Because of You. So, I need you to bear with me for a little while. I'm hoping to still get them back, but I can't really wait and see, so in the meantime I am going to rewrite them. Ugh. . . Fingers crossed for a miracle. And thanks to SammyHale for keeping all the files I sent you, because I could have lost a lot more.**

 **Just a heads up. I do reply to all anon reviews, so if you ask a question in an unsigned review, check back later and there'll be my reply at the bottom.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

 **The Friend Zone**

The downside of living in small towns? One's reputation could be destroyed in between afternoon tea and dinner time.

Though, to be fair, I hadn't exactly recovered much by the way of social redemption since senior year, at the height of my crowd parting, biblical prostitute days. Add to that another four years on the arm of a drooling, silver-backed imbecile and my reputation of "town floosy" and "a penance" for my long suffering father was well and truly inked into my soul.

I didn't think it was possible for my reputation to go lower than it had already plateaued in order to be destroyed, but I'm sure that theory was about to be tested.

Naturally, when I got in my car to go home that afternoon, I was subsequently honked and whistled at from passers-by—both pedestrians and motorists—either in support, or condemnation, of my "lewd public acts", my "usage of electrical erotica during church", or my "fornication with upstanding members of the private sector". I.e. Edward Cullen.

I'm not going to lie, I did expect relinquishing Jake for Edward would raise my stock prices by a couple of percentage points—for the benefit of my father's standing amongst the clergy, you understand—but it appeared I was only going to cause Edward's to plummet.

It was a good thing he was leaving.

 _Leaving. . ._

It's a strange feeling to be so crippled by the prospect of one reality while needing to duck down below my steering wheel at every red light to avoid another.

It didn't help that my concealer had rubbed off, exposing my rather incriminating make-out rash—which was so wanton it would no doubt penetrate most people's window tint, and further seal my fate of a "scarlet woman".

God knows my suggestive appearance had been the topic of gossip all day for the old trolls of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club. I was fairly certain I was going to be the subject matter at their bi-weekly prayer meetings for some time to come. Though, to give them their due credit, despite my ungodly wanton ways, they steadfastly refused to give up on my salvation. I discovered this after being invited to the weekly "Forks Prayer Chain" event, by my soon-to-be step-mother and organ enthusiast, Sue Clearwater.

Invited as a _recipient_ of the scheduled prayer chain, I quickly discovered—as a matter of some urgency. No doubt a result of the disastrous Facebook post Alice had started on my wall; giving all on my friend's list a front row seat to the recent wanton happenings between me and Edward.

I wasn't completely against the old biddies praying for my deliverance, but on closer inspection, and to add to my continued mortification, I discovered I was placed in the "fornicator's" section, under the heading "Those who have been led into temptation". And presently my name had the most number of likes; putting me at the top of the queue.

Most of the population of Forks over the age of fifty had "liked" it, including all the Quilting Club geriatrics, my father, the entire church congregation, as well as _Edward's_ mother. Not to mention Dr. Masen, Tanya, and of course, Rose. Though, as opposed to "liked" she'd reacted with the "haha" emoticon.

Bitch!

As of that afternoon my notice of attendance was a "maybe", and that was, again, only for my father's benefit.

Though, being put on the town's most urgently requested prayer chain was the least of my concerns right then, because, due to Alice's lack of good judgement in lieu of her excitement regarding me and Edward, Jake now knew about us. At the very least it outed to my father to the fact that I'd reneged on the agreement of my chastity. Though, honestly, the man lived in serious denial.

But at the worst it put Jake and Edward on a collision course.

This was just the type of thing that could damage Jake's ego, after all. His ego being the only thing bigger than both his brain and his biceps, combined.

I'll tell you one thing; if he laid a single digit on Edward I would, without hesitation, fracture his testicles with my Christmas nutcracker.

But it was always going to come to this. I knew it, and yet I'd still pursued Edward. I'd still forced him to choose.

He'd chosen me, but how long would it take for him to wish he hadn't?

 **. . .**

By the time I arrived home, I had three missed calls. One from Edward, the other from my father, and the third from Jake. One had left a message, and as I debated with myself whether I really wanted to find out and risk it being from either Jake or my father, Edward rang.

"Heeeeey, handsome," I answered in unadulterated phone sex mode—probably out of habit, I was guessing. After all, it still seemed so unfathomable that Edward loved me.

"Bella?" he asked dubiously after a pause.

You would have thought I'd be used to a clueless male, being with Sasquatch for four years, but from Edward it still threw me.

"Who else would it be?" I teased him.

"You just . . . sounded funny—anyway, I'm going to come over after work and we'll talk. Okay? I have a staff meeting until 5:30."

"Okay," I echoed, my voice dropping unintentionally; no doubt the prospect of seeing Edward again, had woken Celeste from her slumber of humiliation.

"Sure you're not getting a cold, sweetie?" Edward suddenly enquired.

Oh, boy. . .

"No, I'm fine," I replied, rolling my eyes and smiling secretively to myself. It was probably best that Edward remained clueless to my inner whore, after all.

"All right, give me about an hour," he added, his gravelly voice catching before he quickly cleared it; it was like an immediate beacon for Celeste, who hummed through my body of skin almost in reflex.

"I'll be waiting," I replied in a wanton rendition of a murmur.

Edward only chuckled softly. "You crack me up, Bella."

Good god, that man. . .

 **. . .**

"Well, well, the Forks bike rides again," was Rose's greeting the moment I stepped through the front door, before she laughed at her own joke.

"Not even remotely funny—or accurate, bitch face," I grumbled at her, not really angry.

"Nice make-out rash by the way, Marlena. You really need to make Roman shave more often," she added, her emerging smirk hidden as she coughed benignly into her closed fist.

"Shut up. . ." I mumbled, smiling covertly to myself.

"Coffee?" she offered, as I tossed my purse against the hall stand.

"Sure," I answered, distracted as my fingers almost subconsciously rose to touch said make out rash, and then consequently, my lips. It'd been entirely too long since they'd touched Edward's, after all.

"Okay, okay, calm your tits," Rose observed, rolling her eyes to herself, before disappearing into the kitchen.

I smirked to myself. No chance that was going to happen.

Several minutes later, Rose returned carrying two mugs of coffee, and after handing me mine, in my "Edward" cup, she sat beside me and gauged me for a moment; her expression becoming canny.

I only sighed, with sentiments of a groan in correlation. "What . . ?"

"So, I had an interesting chat with John Black today," she eventually confessed, making me all but choke on the scolding black coffee, before snorting it from my nose.

" _What_?" I repeated, my voice little more than a croak, not sure whether I was alarmed more than I was horrified.

She hummed, grinning to herself. "I gotta say, I didn't give that guy nearly as much credit as he deserves."

I was close to throwing my coffee all over the wench, when she elaborated, effectively rendering me speechless, "His rant on Alice's post today was all an act."

I only blinked, blankly for several moments before I was able to, semi, articulate it. " _Huh_ . . ?"

"Apparently after you almost drowned at the beach that time, he saw something in Edward he never had before. He started suspecting Edward's feelings for you, and well, he also said he was kind of over you by that point." To which she suddenly snorted openly to herself.

Because nothing would have amused Rose more than the prospect of Jacob dumping me.

Bitch!

I stared at her, feeling my mouth fall open, completely and utterly dumbfounded, before coherency sprang back into place a moment later. "So—what you're saying is, Jacob fucked around on me for two years hoping I'd take the hint and jump straight into Edward's arms!?"

I wasn't sure whether I was amazed or offended, and whether I had any right to feel either.

"Pretty much, yeah." Rose shrugged, her smirk broadening and becoming more mocking than usual. "Which makes you and Edward _the most_ clueless pair alive."

"Bullshit!" I declared, sounding defensive more than anything, and even more doubtful than that.

"Did you ever wonder why Jake kept setting you and Edward up with movie or club tickets without him?" She cocked a knowing brow this time, as if she knew all along, when I knew nothing was farthest from the truth.

But she had a damn point. . . It _was_ odd, but at the time I never analysed it further than using it as a valid excuse to mind fuck Edward.

In my defence, by that point, I had completely surrendered my faculties to Celeste, so the majority of my mindset was of a wanton nature, and not deciphering the motives of my lichen lover.

"Motherfuck. . ." I mumbled, as my thoughts probed back over the last twelve months, and I hated to admit it, but his behaviour definitely fit in with this newest revelation. "So he expected Edward to . . . completely betray him and make a move on me?" I wondered out loud.

"But Edward never did—which makes that boy a definite keeper," Rose added and when my eyes rose to meet hers, she arched her brow with added emphasis.

"Oh, he's _definitely_ a keeper." I smirked.

"Get a room, _Celeste_." She rolled her eyes at me, before adding, in a more serious tone, "The only thing he _was_ kind of pissed about was when I told him your feelings for Edward went back two years, but after I assured him that nothing had ever happened between the two of you two until this last Saturday, he got over it."

"Oh, so he wanted me to cheat on him, but just not before he was okay about it!" I snapped, huffing, before slamming my mug down on the coffee table.

Rose grinned, shrugging a shoulder. "Well, you already knew he was a self-centred bastard," she said, as if it went without saying.

It did.

"But why didn't he just break up with me?" I asked, emerging from my stranglehold of doubt and dark thoughts.

"Because he was worried you and Edward would lose track of each other, or something," she replied, before taking a sip from her mug; it did nothing to disguise the smirk that was again spreading across her face.

" _What_?!" I demanded, aggravated; though I wasn't entirely sure whether it was at her or stemmed from my continued lack of comprehension.

"Jake has _totally_ been playing you." And with that said, she burst into a bout of barely suppressed snickering.

Sucking in my breath indignantly, I straightened my back; elbowing her at the same time. "But Jake _and_ Edward were planning to leave— _without me_ , unless you've forgotten."

"Apparently he was going to confront Edward at his going away party, or whatever—that you and Edward are _still_ invited to, by the way."

I only gauged her for a moment, becoming suspicious; though I couldn't deny the fact that my heart was racing, and I knew it couldn't be Celeste because that bitch had been rendered mute. "I don't believe it. I say he's just saving face."

She shrugged. "If he is, he's being pretty damn gracious about it all."

He _was_ , but I still wasn't altogether convinced.

"But why would Jake be so invested in me and Edward getting together?" I put a voice to my continued doubt.

"Apparently, you were the reason why Jake and Edward reconnected again," she answered, scoffing to herself, before quickly slurping her coffee loudly in a pathetic attempt to disguise it.

I huffed, stiffly. Of course. Jake wouldn't do anything unless it directly affected him, first and foremost. "Naturally!"

Rose only snorted. "Give it up, Celeste. It all works out perfectly for you."

"And does Edward get a say in any of this?" I declared, still unsure whether I had any right to be pissed by Jake's actions; though, I couldn't deny that just the very idea of Jake inserting himself where and Edward I were concerned felt like he was tainting us.

It did, however, make my fears of Edward resenting me for coming between his friendship with Jake completely redundant. It was the one positive that superseded all the shuddering negatives of Jake's interference.

With this remaining my primary focus, I was suddenly reminded of Jake's missed phone call earlier. I grabbed my purse and rummaged around for my phone, before checking my message bank alerts. The missed call _was_ from Jake, and after pressing "call" I brought it reluctantly to my ear."

"Took the two of you long enough," his gorilla phlegm voice assaulted my senses in his, typically, over confident drawl, before he snorted, and I was temporarily distracted by the accompanied full bodied cringes that I completely missed his meaning.

A moment later it hit, rendering me dumbstruck and in complete disbelief.

"Mother of God, I'm in the Twilight Zone. . ." I muttered to myself, shaking my head, before an almost dry, incredulous laugh erupted from me.

"I think you mean _Salem_ , Celeste!" the wench called from somewhere on the second floor.

"Bitchface!" I screeched back to her, before a thought suddenly occurred to me.

Me and Edward . . . and _Jake_. . . ?

Fuck my life.

 **. . .**

At just past 5:30 Edward texted me to let me know he was being held up, and then again at 6:00, and again at 6:30; with nothing more being said. Just that he was "held up". When 7:30 pm passed with no sign of him I began to worry, and more so when Alice called me to inform me that Jake had tagged Edward in his Facebook post "at Bogachiel Clinic".

"What the hell does that mean?!" I hollered at no one in particular; least of all to Alice, the "provocateur" in my plummeting-to-the-outer-rim of my wanton reputation.

"I don't know, but I'd definitely go down there and find out," Alice suggested.

With my pulse rate in a sudden hissy, I threw my phone into my purse, without bothering to hang up first, before slinging it over my shoulder. Then, after heading for the front door, I swung it open, only to almost collide with Edward; who stood in the doorway, his hand raised in mid-air to knock.

"Edward!" I blurted breathlessly, as Celeste threw me deliberately against him. He immediately steadied me, his smile growing broad and gentle just as I noticed the bandage covering his left eyebrow. "What happened!?" I was horrified, before it quickly grew into blood boiling anger. "What did that _drooling imbecile_ do to you?!"

His grin skewered in amusement, before he took a deliberate breath. "Okay, calm down. Do you want to talk inside, or go to my place?"

His voice was soothing and slightly rugged that the drunken grin growing wide across my face quickly turned wanton. "Okay. . ." inebriated, lunatic phone sex whore answered on my behalf.

He scoffed quickly threw his nose, in continued amusement, I could only assume, just as I came to my senses; quickly shaking my head.

"Your place—I mean," I stuttered out. Rose was upstairs and would no doubt be presently pretending not to eavesdrop, after all.

"All right," he replied, his voice dipping huskily, before he cupped his palm to my cheek, and angled my face to him; closing his mouth over mine. "Hi," he murmured after kissing me repeatedly for a long moment, his grin oozing with that dorky sweetness that I loved.

"Hi," I echoed him, swaying on my feet, as my eyes remained glued to his lips, and just as I leaned in to once again kiss him, he intercepted me by wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leading me to his car.

It gave me a moment to once more reflect on his injured eye; which did nothing but contradict Rose's supposed conversation with Jacob that day. But then Edward threw a spanner into the whole theory.

"He did it for appearances," he muttered, answering the question I didn't ask, before he kind of scoffed out a humourless chuckle.

"What does that mean?" I asked, thrown into further confusion as my thoughts once more harboured on silverback genocide.

He grinned to himself almost wryly, his head shaking ever so slowly. "It means he's an idiot," he uttered not quite beneath his breath.

When we reached his car, and just as Edward pulled open the passenger side door for me, I stopped him. "Edward, tell me—did Jake plan out . . . you and me getting together?"

He paused, his hand sliding to the back of his neck before he severed his gaze from mine to focus on the ground. "Apparently," he admitted, his brows heavily knotted even as he kept his attention fused firmly at his feet.

"Did . . . did you know about it?" I asked, hesitantly this time.

He immediately looked up and met my gaze, his eyes suddenly intensifying. "Of course not."

I broke into a smile, not caring that Jake's scheming may or may not have brought us together. It was irrelevant, and I'd tolerate the Sasquatch for the next thousand years if it meant I got to be with Edward.

Only one thing mattered at the moment; not Jake, or my less than desirable reputation amongst the local church congregation, even my wanton libido which fuelled it. What mattered was whether Edward was still leaving; something that threaten to overshadow the ecstasy that the last couple of days had created. Something that, even now, continued to haunt me, even as Celeste lit a fire within my knickers.

And so I put it to him, straight out, without any reservations, "Are you still moving to Seattle, Edward?"

"Not without you," he answered seriously, without hesitation, as his expression immediately echoed it.

I smiled, happily, wantonly, for this one moment in time; no longer caring about Jacob's sleazy plotting, or why Edward had nearly fucked me into a coma Saturday night. I smiled because for the very first time in my entire life I found myself perfectly happy.

The question now was, could I keep Edward with me in Forks?

* * *

 **A/N: Did Jake seriously play them? Let me know what you think.  
MWAH xoxo**


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